


Dream A Little Dream Of Me

by ann2who



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cap_Ironman Big Bang 2016, Coming Out, Dream Sharing, Falling In Love, Fate & Destiny, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Identity Porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8604634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ann2who/pseuds/ann2who
Summary: Back in 1943, Steve Rogers is left with the aftermath of Project Rebirth. His days are filled with fighting Hydra on German soil, his dreams, however, are occupied by a very handsome stranger. A stranger, who barges into his life like a hurricane, and throws Steve’s expectation of love right out of the window. The guy’s aggravating, unpredictable, and yet, irritatingly handsome. The more Steve’s dreams and waking life blur together, the more he finds himself drawn to the man. But how can he fall in love with someone who might not even be part of his world?





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to this year's Cap_Ironman Big Bang.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful [morphia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia). Thank you so much!
> 
> Artwork by kakushimiko and kaitovsheiji. Thank you both so much for pitching in and creating those beautiful fanarts <3
> 
> Link to Art by kaitovsheiji: [Click here](http://kaitovsheiji.tumblr.com/post/154288060443/good-day-planet-earth-this-piece-here-is-my)
> 
> Link to Art by kakushimiko: [Click here](http://kakushimiko.tumblr.com/post/154299510852/dream-a-little-dream-of-me-by-ann2who-summary?soc_src=mail&soc_trk=ma#disqus_thread)

_Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you_

_Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you_

_But in your dreams, whatever they be_

_Dream a little dream of me._

_— Ella Fitzgerald_

 

 

 

[ ](http://kakushimiko.tumblr.com/post/154299510852/dream-a-little-dream-of-me-by-ann2who-summary)

 

 

 

 

When Steve walked into his motel room that night, his body felt worn and his muscles trembled with how much they’d changed. It wasn’t painful, exactly, it was just a little overwhelming. He was too big, his shoulders too broad, his limbs too long. It was hard to control his movements. Whenever he touched something, it creaked beneath his fingers as if it was a second away from breaking in two.

Aside from the physical changes, Steve’s mind was stuck on replay. Despite the fact that he’d been preparing for Project Rebirth for weeks, everything had happened awfully fast. Every time Steve closed his eyes, he saw the scene again. He heard every word, felt every breath Erskine had left on his face as he’d whispered his last words, relived every second and was no better off for it.

In the grand scheme of things, everything had worked just as Erskine and Stark had hoped it would. And still, Steve wasn’t enough. Colonel Phillips had said as much. He wouldn’t let Steve go after Schmidt, wouldn’t let him join the fight on the front lines.

At the end of the day, Steve was back where he had started. And while he was grateful for the opportunity Senator Brandt was giving him, serving his country by doing fund-raising shows, he knew it wasn’t all he could do.

It wasn’t all he _should_ do.

The guy that called himself ‘Red Skull’ killed innocents out there. And he planned something that could pose a real threat to the whole world. He’d made a career out of it, of sacrificing many to gain what he wanted, and evidently, it was just the start of something even more horrifying.

And Steve—he was strong now. Before Erskin, he’d never faced a man, other than Bucky, that he had a chance of beating in a one on one fight. And Bucky—well, if Steve was honest to himself, he supposed Bucky had let him win most of the time, just to spare him the humiliation.

Now, though, Steve was strong. _Way_ strong. Stronger than any man he’d ever faced. Heck, Steve was halfway convinced he could take it on with a whole dozen of enemies right now, and still come out alive on the other side. His muscles vibrated with power, his heart was going a mile per minute, and he felt the urge to run, to move, to _breathe_ —finally taking big gulps of air without any hindrance.

It was as exhilarating as it was frightening. This new body was very obviously meant to fight, to endure the heaviest strain, the longest exertion. And yet, he was sitting here, in this slightly run-down motel room, doing absolutely nothing.

Steve supposed his new strength wasn’t easily explained. Colonel Phillips had the notion in his head that a single man couldn’t possibly cause any change—and moreover, that Steve was a failed experiment and nothing more.

A small voice in Steve’s mind, the part of him that still felt far too small for a body this big, was inclined to agree.

Steve shivered hard and shook his head at his dark thoughts, sitting down onto the worn mattress of his motel room bed. It squeaked with how heavy he was. Wincing, Steve checked if he’d broken something— _again_ —but everything seemed to be intact.

Things would look better tomorrow, he thought as he changed into his pyjama pants. Brandt would accompany him to Washington where he’d be doing his first show under the identity of _Captain America_. And once his shoulders stopped aching and his heart didn’t throb with pain every time he closed his eyes and saw Erskine dying in his arms, he could find his hope again.

Steve stared at the empty wall of the little room, and loneliness cursed through his body that threatened to choke him. There had been many lows in his life: The many times he’d almost died during childhood, the day his mother had received the death notification of his father, or the day his mother had died of tuberculosis.

He’d survived all of that, if just barely. He’d survived, because Bucky had always been by his side.

Now, he was alone, and he felt it with every fibre of his being. There was no one there to share all of this weight with. No one.

A heavy sigh trembled through Steve’s lips, as he closed his eyes and let sleep carry him away. And wished— _wished fiercely_ —for his words to be true: There had to be some meaning to his life. This couldn’t be it.

It _couldn’t_ be.

 

* * *

 

Steve stopped in his tracks, momentarily confused at where he was, and—more importantly—where he’d come from.

“What,” he breathed, turning around in confusion. He remembered walking through a door, and now he stood in what appeared to be another, much larger motel room.

The room was strange. That was the first thought running through Steve’s head. For one, there was a bed that was twice as huge as the largest bed Steve had ever seen. Its frame consisted of a metallic frame that was bent into an odd looking shape. The sheets looked smooth and thin, almost gloomy, and there were about eight different pillows stacked at its head. Above the bed, a painting hung on the wall. Steve frowned as he took a brief look at it. There was a bright blue, abstract form on the canvas, something he’d never seen in any kind of museum.

The whole room felt… it felt off. Steve couldn’t put a finger on it, but it wasn’t something he was familiar with. It looked luxurious, and everything had some kind of sleek elegance to it, even the wooden easel in the far-end corner, but it all looked so strange—the whole, giant space, and Steve felt a cold shiver running up his spine.

_Where was he?_

When his eyes landed on the bed once more, Steve realized there was a man lounging on its surface.

“Oh _hello_ , handsome,” the man said, his brown eyes sparkling as he looked Steve up and down.

There was a man in a fine-looking suit. And Steve was almost sure he hadn’t been there a minute before. What on earth was going on here?

“What is this?” Steve demanded.

“Uh…” The man looked around, frowning. He waved a dismissive hand at the room. “Should be the Four Seasons, I’m guessing.”

Steve didn’t know any motel that was called ‘Four Seasons’, but he was very sure this wasn’t the same rundown motel he’d gone to bed in.

Steve stood frozen as he regarded the man. He looked to be his age, maybe a bit younger—sharp features, slim figure, bold facial hair, and bright-red sunglasses that somehow looked even stranger than the whole room in itself.

“Been a while since I dreamed of a guy,” the man said, smirking at Steve as he let his eyes rake up and down over Steve’s body. “But hey, you’re quite the eye-candy.”

Steve fought the feeling to glance over his shoulder guiltily. They were alone, but _still_. Shouldn’t the man know that flirting like this could get them into real trouble really fast?

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, I think you heard me, hot stuff,” was the only thing the man said, and it had Steve huff an annoyed breath.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Tony,” the man replied, and instead of asking for Steve’s name, he kept smiling at him in a way that could only be described as lewd.

“And you’re here, why?”

The man— _Tony_ —shrugged, as he sat up a bit to unbutton and slide off his suit jacket. He loosened his tie somewhat before settling down again. “It’s my dream,” he retorted. “I have a habit of turning up in my dreams.”

Steve blinked in surprise. Then he shook his head hard. “Excuse me, your _dream_?”

Tony’s brow furrowed. “Well,” he said. “Yeah? I don’t remember much of last night, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t score a sexy hunk like you. So it’s obviously my dream.”

A dream. That would make a lot of sense, and it’d explain the strange-looking interior of the room. Steve’s fantasy had always had a mind of its own. The question remained why Steve would dream of a guy like this. The man was irritating, and downright obscene, not to mention that he was treading on very illegal grounds and didn’t seem to care all that much.

Why would he dream of someone like that? There sure as heck were other troubles on his mind right now.

“Why can’t it be my dream?”

“I…” Tony stopped, frowning. “You know, my sex-fantasies don’t usually ask that many questions. Come on, I’m _me_ ,” he waved a hand at himself, and Steve had no idea what that supposed to mean, “and _you_ —you’re a walking Adonis, so I think it’s safe to say this isn’t your dream.”

“What?” Steve asked a bit dumbly. It was so strange that anyone would find him remotely attractive. It was then that he noticed that he was wearing his pyjama pants and a shirt that was admittedly way too tight for his new body. Still. It didn’t justify how hard that man was hitting on him. “This doesn’t make any sense. I shouldn’t be here.”

The man huffed, clearly more than bit annoyed now. His long, slender fingers stroked his weirdly groomed chin in mock-thought. “Great. Isn’t that a real ball-buster? Last week wasn’t shitty enough, is that it? No, now my sex-fantasy is having a crisis of faith. You’re my wet dream, darling, you’re supposed to be naked by now, not discuss your issues with me.”

 _All right_ , Steve thought grimly. No matter what—no matter that Steve was standing in the middle of what _had_ to be an illusion, speaking to a man who clearly couldn’t be real—Steve refused to be talked to this way. “Then you should learn to live with disappointment. And don’t call me ‘darling’, I’m not… like that.”

It wasn’t _strictly_ true. Steve had more or less always been attracted to both dames and gents, but with the war raging on, it wasn’t something he gave much thought to. It wasn’t important, and in any case, even if he would consider men like that, Tony clearly wasn’t someone who would have something to do with Steve. He was wearing an obviously very expensive suit, with an even more expensive watch at his wrist and sharp-looking features.

He was so far out of Steve’s reach, it wasn’t something he even needed to consider.

His words, however, clearly surprised Tony. He blinked, then stared at Steve as if he only now saw him. His eyes burned while sizing him up—and good Lord, if this was a dream it sure all felt very real.

“That’s… odd,” Tony concluded.

“You could call it that,” Steve said, and finally moved away from his spot in the corner of this room.

The dream had to be the serum messing with his head. Some kind of side effect Erskine hadn’t foreseen. And that meant it wasn’t real. And temporary. It was only some post-injection dream, starring a man who was everything Steve knew he could never have. It was his mind telling him how lost he felt right now. Not really much to figure out there. No matter how tangible it looked or felt, Tony and this motel room, they were about as real as Santa Claus.

Which meant that it was safe to say and do whatever he wanted.

The thought had something inside of him stir to life.

It was a _dream_ , not his dreary reality.

“On the other hand,” Tony said, bringing Steve back to the present. “Maybe you just need a bit of persuasion. I was told I can be very persuasive, and… you’re every bit the kind of guy I’d want, so…” He trailed off and wiggled his brows at Steve. The gesture was more goofy than suggestive, but Steve didn’t let his amusement show.

“And why do you think I’d want _you_?” he countered. Since this was a dream, he figured he didn’t have to beat around the bush, didn’t have to control, which words left his mouth and which better didn’t.

Steve didn’t know why, but a shadow fell over Tony’s face at that. “Simple. You’re my fantasy and you’ll do what I tell you.” He paused and ran those sinful eyes over Steve’s body in a way that had Steve twitching and feeling very much aware of his new body. “Come here.”

Steve stopped, but made sure not to let his uncertainty show. “I’ll not let you order me around,” he retorted, crossing his arms, his body wound tighter than Steve had ever remembered.

Tony huffed. “You’re a stubborn one, hm? Fine with me.” He cast him a crooked grin. “I think I like some spunk in you. You know… both figuratively and literally.”

That brought a fierce blush to Steve’s cheeks. “You’re impertinent.”

“Hello.” Tony waved at himself, his eyes sparkling darkly. “I’m _me_.”

“Yeah. And _you_ are not the first arrogant jerk I’ve come across,” Steve retorted. “You think I’m gonna let you smart-off ‘cause this is a dream, don’cha?”

Tony shrugged again and stood up from the bed, stretching slightly. The way he was presenting himself was obviously intended and Steve did his very best to ignore both of it. The guy was attractive enough without focusing on specific body parts—like his bowed back, or the slim legs, or his… very pert ass.

 _Dammit_.

“Usually my bed partners like that about me,” Tony said as he glanced at Steve. He bent down to reach for a tumbler that stood on the nightstand. Steve wasn’t sure if it had been there before, but then again, it was a dream. “Of course, there’s other things I can do with my mouth.”

“I won’t… do that… with you,” Steve said, swallowing his tongue with how awkward he sounded.

“Well, your choice,” Tony answered matter-of-factly. “Once this dream is over, I’ll already have the next chit at the ready. And there’s always the one after that. The possibilities never end for me, see. That’s the one good thing about being who I am.” He took another, much longer sip, and Steve noticed he didn’t even flinch as he swallowed the alcohol down.

Tony walked a few steps, and leaned against the wall, his eyes flickering to the window, before he looked back at Steve. His eyes raked over his body again, and those were _definitely_ not shudders racing down Steve’s spine.

Steve knew he should feel insulted at everything that had left Tony’s lips so far, but somehow, he didn’t care all that much. All of this couldn’t be real, and what good would it do him to argue with a man his own imagination had come up with?

Instead, he might as well do what it offered.

“I can see why people would want to be with you,” he said, forcing the words out of his lips before he could think too much about it.

Tony raised a brow, and Steve felt a jolt of satisfaction rush through him that he could surprise a man like him. “You’re really something, mystery-man,” Tony said with a far more genuine smile. His eyes raked over Steve’s face, over his hair, down to his shirt. “A bit old-fashioned maybe, but definitely something.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “And what would you have me do?”

The smile broadened. “That’s the beauty of it: It’s a dream. Just do whatever you want… You could start with freeing yourself of that cotton horror, but that’s just my two cents.” Tony pointed at Steve’s pyjama pants. And damn if he wasn’t the most _infuriating_ jackass Steve had ever met. His words really should inspire revulsion—not exhilaration. Steve should be clenching his fists in rage, not feeling himself stiffen at Tony’s intense stare.

A small, pitiful breath tickled Steve’s throat. That was definitely a downside to realistic dreams. He’d never been so aroused while sleeping. “So what’s it?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “You want to sleep with me—”

“Very much.”

“You’re not exactly my type,” Steve lied, maybe just to rile him up a little.

Tony, however, just grinned again, damn him. He _hated_ that grin. And he sort of wanted to kiss it off his face. “ _Ow_ ,” Tony said, slapping a hand to his heart. He held Steve’s gaze a moment longer, before he put the tumbler back down on the table and walked over. It was the first time he was within arm-length, and Steve lightly bit his lower lip when he got a whiff of Tony’s aftershave.

Of course he would smell good, Steve thought, trying not to show how much of an allure Tony had on him.

Now that he was so close, Steve realized that Tony was much smaller than him—which was _so_ confusing. Steve almost couldn’t get the thought around his head, knowing he was taller than most people now. But Tony only raised his chin high, staring Steve down despite their height difference.

“I can see why I would dream of you,” he said, his voice strangely soft as his eyes did the vertical dance once more. “I always preferred people with fight in them.”

“You’re a walking cliché, aren’t you?”

Tony shook his head, unbothered. “Clichés are boring, don’t you think? I’m much more interesting.”

“My mind must be a mess for thinking up someone like you,” Steve said, staring down at Tony. He was so close now, he could freely touch his perfect, fine-looking dress shirt. Somehow, he had the urge to rough him up a little. “But I can’t say my life has been easy lately, so this is a… welcoming distraction.”

“I’ll be your distraction if you’re mine,” Tony murmured with a private smile, as if he understood him perfectly. And he was close. Christ, he was _so_ close. Another step, and his chest would be against Steve’s. And perhaps because Steve knew it was a dream, he didn’t fight or step back. No one saw them here; no one would know what he secretly wanted. So he didn’t attempt to regain the space Tony’d stolen. The cold he’d felt in the lonely, shady motel room was gone. Tony was standing right in front of him, and damn if he didn’t smell as good as any man Steve had ever fantasized about.

“I can make you feel so good,” Tony repeated, running his index finger over Steve’s shirt. “You never did this before, did you?”

His throat was suddenly hoarse. “Why would you think so?”

A pause. When he spoke again, Tony’s mouth was right at his ear. “You look too pure to be real. And anyway, this is my dream, remember?”

Steve shivered. “Maybe it’s _my_ dream, and you’re just here to teach me a few things.”

Tony stopped. Then laughed softly. “What about that? You’re not supposed to _sass_ me, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes.”

“Then you should probably dream of someone else.”

“But I don’t wanna dream of someone else,” Tony replied with an easy shrug. “I like to have you here, with me.”

“It’s just a dream,” Steve reminded him.

“All the more reason to enjoy you.” With that, Tony took that last step forward, and then his chest was firmly pressed against Steve’s chest, and something hard against Steve’s thighs. A flood of heat pooled in his middle, and all at once, Steve felt very hot and very hard himself.

“I could make you beg for it,” Tony purred, and if Steve thought he’d acted lewdly before, he clearly had underestimated Tony. He was all downright seduction now. “Think you’ll like me more when I’m fucking my mouth on you? When I’ll let you spread me on your fingers? When I’ll rub my hole till it’ll open up for you?”

Oh. Dear. Lord. Steve was definitely bright red now. He was really doing this, blushing like a schoolgirl, because of some crass words. In his own dream. In front of a hallucination.

But could anyone blame him? He felt more than just a little lightheaded. Tony moved against him as he spoke, rubbing what _had_ to be his erection into the space between Steve’s thighs and gently ran his hands up and down Steve’s arms.

And Steve was whole-heartedly responding to him.

 _I shouldn’t want this,_ a tiny voice in Steve’s head told him. _They say it’s not right._

“I’ll bring you to the edge so many times,” Tony went on, “you’ll be crying for more.”

Steve swallowed. Hard. “You wish.”

“Oh it’s a promise, not a wish. I’ll take you so deep inside, you won’t ever forget me again.”

Somehow, that wasn’t so hard to believe at all.

Tony leaned in, and Steve’s hands flew instinctively to his forearms, his hips arching upward with foreign need. He was on fire—he was burning in ways he’d never burned before. And Tony was there. Tony’s mouth was on his throat. He moaned into Steve’s skin, evidently tossing whatever he’d been ready to say out the proverbial window and instead decided to drive Steve even crazier than he had already. His tongue licked along his neck, swirling around before he sucked down.

This was all so weird and Steve needed more of it. He needed Tony to strip his pants off and feel the hardness between his legs. He needed him to do something to ease the fire he’d set loose in Steve’s body. He needed—

“Come on, Adonis.”

He needed Tony to say his name.

And perhaps because he knew it was just a dream—that everything around him would return to normal the second he opened his eyes—Steve just stopped caring. He stopped caring altogether. It wasn’t real. He couldn’t be blamed for something that wasn’t real. No one could put him into prison for dreaming about another man. For doing something in his mind while he slept.

He couldn’t be blamed for wanting to kiss a man in here.

So he fisted Tony’s hair and dragged him away from his throat, ignoring the whimper of protest that tumbled through Tony’s lips. “It’s Steve,” he told him firmly. “My name is Steve.” With that, he pressed his lips to Tony’s mouth. And immediately, any sliver of doubt that this wasn’t a dream was banished, because there was no way any man could ever taste this good. Tony was sin and decadence; he was lust and fire. He tasted of cigarettes and whisky, of everything Steve had always thought he’d never want.

Tony groaned, sucking Steve’s lower lip into his mouth. “ _Steve_ ,” he said and was almost vibrating in Steve’s arms, and he felt and tasted so _real_.

“Exactly.” His tongue stroked Tony’s with fire he’d never felt before. Certainly not with the one single girl he’d kissed behind their church in Brooklyn. Not from anyone. Tony blew every expectation out of his head, and he knew without doubt that he’d never feel this again. Not in reality.

It might be wrong, but it was a dream. It was only a dream. Dreams weren’t real.

Then something happened. Something that stole the dream from his fingertips. There was a knock, insistent and very loud. It resounded in Steve’s mind over and over again and while he tried to ignore it at first, at some point, he couldn’t.

He opened his eyes, and with that, Tony was gone. The strange luxurious room had vanished, leaving him cold and alone in his own bed.

Steve had never been so disappointed to wake up from a dream in all his life.

 

* * *

 

Steve spent the next day driving to Washington. In the evening, they had their first of many test runs for the big USO opening and it left him with a hollow ache in his chest. The whole thing was awkward, and he was too tense, only barely managing to read his text from where he had pinned it to the brass-shield he’d been carrying.

But it wasn’t the awkwardness that had left him with a bad taste in his mouth. It was the fact that this was all he’d do now… act as if he’d punch Hitler in the face, do promotional film reels, smile at the cameras, instead of actually going out there and helping people.

They’d booked another motel room for him this night. It was even one of the nicer ones, with clean linen sheets and a radio on the small table next to a reading chair. When Steve walked into the bathroom, holding his toothbrush under the water, his mind kept drifting off. He brushed his teeth, but his thoughts were far away. Only two days ago, he’d thought that maybe he could make a difference. That he, and the many other super soldiers could bring this war to an end, right the many wrongs out there, but now he… didn’t know which way to turn.

Bucky was somewhere on the front lines, and he’d be wearing tights, playing the hero.

And then there was that dream, of a man he’d kissed. _Willingly_. He’d thought ignoring all of this wouldn’t be a problem. He _liked_ girls—and Peggy was like no one he’d ever met before, strong, wilful, independent. And yet…

It might be a problem now.

Groaning, Steve spit the remaining toothpaste into the sink. How a single, random dream could throw him off like that was beyond him. There were other things to worry about. He needed to stop thinking about Tony, it hadn’t been real, and tomorrow was another test show, so he should be concentrating on that.

Lying down in his oddly comfortable bed, Steve closed his eyes. He recited his Captain America speech a few times before his fatigue took over.

 

* * *

 

He really didn’t know how to react when he closed his eyes and found himself in the strange room again. He’d never had the same dream twice before, and every detail was exactly the same.

The interior, the light, the smell of the air, and—

 _Tony_.

Tony was sitting in front of him. He sat on the huge bed and looked just as irritated as Steve felt.

That was impossible, wasn’t it? The day had left Steve little more than tired and confused, and the night wasn’t looking to be any better. He had spent a lot of time trying to understand his encounter with Tony. The underlying meaning, but unsurprisingly, his efforts were to little avail. And now, he really wasn’t sure how to react. Tony was here again, and it was the _exact_ same motel room, down to the abstract, colourful painting on the wall.

“That’s a joke, right?” Tony asked, his body tight with tension. “We’re back here again? Do you remember last night?”

Steve really didn’t want to think more about what had happened last night, but he couldn’t forget it either. Tony was there, and dream or not, it was definitely the same Tony he’d kissed only hours ago.

And the fire he’d ignited in his body had yet to fade.

Steve licked his lips and awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I remember.”

That was all he said. Silence stretched between them.

“So, this is… odd,” Tony said, and cleared his throat. “I think I said that already. Maybe it’s kind of a déjà vu dream, huh?”

He looked over his shoulder to the nightstand, and got up on his feet when he saw the same tumbler with the same amount of liquid in it. There was visible relief on his face. When he turned around, Steve briefly spotted a few bad cuts and scrapes on Tony’s knuckles.

Steve was about to open his mouth and ask what had happened, when a long sigh rolled off Tony’s shoulders and he collapsed wearily against the wall. “Or I’m losing my mind.”

“What do you mean?”

Tony glanced at him. “I have no idea, I’m not a shrink. Maybe you’re my way of dealing with J’s death, or I just really need to get laid again, what would I know.”

“Who’s J?” Steve asked, though he had a feeling Tony wouldn’t be the kind of guy to share his feelings. And he was right, his expression closed off immediately.

Only then, Steve realized that Tony was wearing a traditional funeral suit, with a solid black tie, and a white shirt beneath. It could be a coincidence, of course, but something in Tony’s stature told Steve it wasn’t.

“Let’s just sit here until I wake up, yeah?” Tony asked quietly.

Steve nodded, though he really didn’t know how he was supposed to deal with all of this. Last night, Tony had all but rocked his foundation. Tony had made him want this. It hadn’t felt like a dream, or a fantasy, though of course—it had to be.

His life was beyond screwed up.

The night went on encompassed in complete silence. Tony sat on the edge of the bed with his back to Steve, while he took a seat in the reading chair. Tony’s shoulders were tense, head down, fingers wringing together. Occasionally, he’d nip from his glass, but didn’t speak again. They just sat, not looking at each other.

There was nothing to do but wait for the day to tug him back to a reality that made sense.

 

* * *

 

The dreams continued like that for days. He lived his life, travelling from one USO show to another, giving interviews, shooting promotional photos, knowing Tony waited for him at night. Sometimes they spoke, sometimes they sat, divided by an awkward silence.

Steve could tell Tony was just as unnerved about all of this as Steve himself. This wasn’t normal by any means. Dreaming about the same person was one thing, but having that person remember the dreams in great detail, it was… impossible.

And yet, there Tony was. Clearly a figment of his imagination, and yet strangely real.

A week in, Tony had a little meltdown, yelling at the room and trashing a bit of furniture. They both had realized early on that leaving the room wasn’t much of an option. They’d simply find themselves walking through a door, only to reappear on the other side of the room. Outside the windows, it was always the same scenery: New York by night, though Steve had noted that his dream-memory of the skyline wasn’t quite as accurate. A few buildings didn’t look right, but then again, it supposedly didn’t matter.

The next night, they had entered the room again, and the wooden easel Tony had smashed against the wall repeatedly stood once again in the corner, fully intact.

“This is crazy,” Tony had murmured, staring at Steve in question.

Steve had only shrugged, and sat down in the reading chair. It was crazy and there was nothing he could say that’d make Tony feel better.

Whenever he’d tried, Tony had brushed him off with harsh words and angry eyes, so Steve knew better than to try again.

Of course, Steve never mentioned his dreams to anyone. The men and women he went on stage with were nice enough lads, but Steve wouldn’t know what to tell them, anyway. The dreams, strange as they were, were his. Completely his. And he wasn’t in the mood to share.

So he lived as though nothing had changed. In the day, he would jog around the various cities and train in the gyms that Senator Brandt allowed him to go to. In the evenings, Steve did his little show and told everyone how very much the world was doomed unless he, as Captain America, stopped the rising of so-and-so. The routine repeated itself every day until nightfall. Until Steve sneaked a peek at the fading sun through the nearest window, stood up and told the USO girls he was calling it a night, and disappeared until the next morning.

He and Tony would sit next to each other, wrapped in tensed silence. It was all stuck on repeat—every single night.

Every night leading up to the USO tour in Italy.

 

* * *

 

That night, it took forever to fall asleep.

Adrenaline was still spiking through Steve’s veins, and the battle with Johann Schmidt was on constant replay in his mind. He had freed Bucky—had managed to find his still-alive friend against all odds, and now, he could finally do what he had always wanted to do.

He could help people. He could make the world a little safer.

The way Peggy had looked at him had made Steve feel insanely proud and from what Colonel Phillips had told him afterwards, Steve understood that they wanted him to find a team and hunt Schmidt down. They had talked well into the night, with the others drinking some self-brewed liquor Jim Morita had brought with him. And much later, he and Bucky had shared a few stories on how their lives had been in the last months.

Bucky, of course, almost only asked questions about the USO girls—and Peggy. He wanted to know if he’d kissed her, what she’d said in what order, and while Steve felt himself blushing a little, his thoughts kept drifting back to the man in his dreams.

Tony would already be waiting for him.

It couldn’t be helped though. He hadn’t seen Bucky in so long, and Tony didn’t speak with him anyway. Thus, it was almost morning when Steve felt his eyes drop. He hadn’t even managed to change out of his uniform, when the air split. The blurred objects in the room formed shape, and he found himself slammed into the door behind him with an angry Tony pressed to his front.

“What—”

“You think you can just do that?” Tony snapped with palpable anger in his eyes. “You let me wait here for hours! I thought something _happened_ —”

“Not that it matters,” Steve ground out, “but you’re the one who never talks to m—”

“You’re a dream! You’re not supposed to argue with me, goddammit!” Tony let go of him, and took a step back.

Steve blinked. It occurred to him that this was the first time Tony wasn’t wearing one of his suits. Instead, he wore sweatpants with lots of holes and oil stains and a black tank top. His hair wasn’t perfectly groomed as usual, either, but actually looked a lot like Tony had been sleeping on it for once.

He looked so good Steve stared at him dumbly for several minutes.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Tony asked when he’d turned around to Steve once more. His brows were raised up high.

Steve looked down at himself, at his brown pants, his tattered leather jacket and the blue shirt with the white star beneath.

“I’ve been busy,” he said evasively. “Didn’t really have the time to change.”

“Busy,” Tony echoed. “And with what? Helping little grannies over the street?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I had to step out today,” Steve explained, fully aware that they had never really shared any personal information before. Tony didn’t know he was in the army. “I’m at the front lines.”

Tony huffed a hollow laugh and rubbed his eyes with a hand. “Do you even hear yourself? You can’t be busy, you can’t be fighting _anywhere_ , you’re my… I’m _dreaming_ about you, why should I…”

It was then when his eyes zeroed in on the white star on his shirt, and Steve thought his eyes almost bogged out.

“Oh that makes sense, of course,” Tony said, a bit hysterical all of a sudden, and Steve had genuinely no idea what he was talking about. “You’re… you’re supposed to be _him_ , yes? I’m dreaming up a Captain America lookalike, that’s—that’s very creative, Tony, really. Dad would be so proud, you know, if he’d still been alive.”

His hands wandered into his hair, roughing up the already messy black locks. “I can’t believe myself. I haven’t thought about you in years, and now you’re haunting my every night. Why didn’t I see this, you look _exactly_ like him. I should’ve realized it’s you.” His eyes wandered over Steve’s face and he kept shaking his head.

What was going on here?

“I have… absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Tony.”

It wasn’t out of the question that Tony might have heard of Captain America before, his face was on posters all over the country at this point, but Steve had no idea why it made him so angry.

“What’s your name?” Tony asked.

Steve frowned. Tony _knew_ his name. “Steve,” he said, and only when Tony raised his brows in question, he added, “Rogers.”

“And ‘Grant’ is your middle name, yeah?”

Steve frowned. That was… how could Tony know his middle name? Although… that was a stupid thought, of course. Tony wasn’t real. He was a figment of his own darn imagination. Of course he’d know Steve’s middle name. Tony was basically a product of his own mind, and he really ought to remember that.

“I don’t know what my name has to do with anything.”

Tony’s expression darkened even further. “You know what,” he snapped, and neared Steve like a leopard on the hunt. “For once, I completely agree with you.”

With that, he closed the space between them, and pushed himself against Steve. With his whole body. Apparently, Tony had absolutely no qualms about grinding his middle against Steve’s crotch. It seemed he made sure that Steve felt every inch of his body against him.

“Tony…” Steve warned, but it was without any heat. Ever since their first encounter a couple of weeks ago, he kept thinking about their kiss. And no matter what Tony was ranting about, Steve knew perfectly well that all of this wasn’t real—not when he was truly lying on some hard cot on the front lines of a horrible war.

So he might as well give into it when Tony offered.

Steve held his breath. One of Tony’s knees had found its way between his thighs and his cock was rubbing intimately against Steve’s clothes. His brown eyes were wide and blazing with an addictive symphony of anger drenched in lust.

“You like that, Captain?” Tony purred. “To know how hard I am for you?”

God, if he got any harder, his pants would melt right off. “Oh heck…”

“’Oh heck’?” Tony echoed. “You even talk like him. The star-spangled man with a plan, huh? You’ve got any plans for tonight?”

His eyes met Steve’s just briefly before his hand came to play, reaching between them and opening the buttons of Steve’s pants.

A bizarre mixture of exhilaration and shock raced through Steve’s veins. “It’s not real,” he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. He lifted his palm to Tony’s cheek, his insides heating when Tony reluctantly raised his head to meet his eyes. And what he saw there—the anger conflicted with specks of awe and wonder—was enough to make him weak in the knees. “I’m dreaming.”

“Sure you are, Cap,” Tony replied.

There was something in Tony’s eyes that he’d never seen before. It looked as if for some reason, he wanted to hate this, but couldn’t.

The moment disappeared on the next beat, and left only angered lust in its wake. Tony grunted, biting at Steve’s lips before freeing his cock with clever fingers.

“The great Captain America,” Tony said against Steve’s lips, “waiting to drive me crazy.”

“I don’t—”

“I’ll let you fuck me, but I won’t let you drive me nuts. You can’t make me forget how you made my whole life a living hell.”

Steve’s frowned, too irritated now to let this go any further. Beneath his crass demeanour, Tony had always seemed strangely fragile, as if he was only protecting himself with his flashy attitude, and Steve had always had a hard time taking his words serious. Now, though, he sounded as if his words came directly from his heart. So Steve’s hands settled on Tony’s shoulders and he shoved him back a bit. “What are you _talking_ about?”

“Apparently I can’t walk away from this,” Tony breathed. He yanked Steve’s shirt up a bit, until his naked chest was momentarily exposed to his hungry, conflicted eyes. “And we can’t…” he continued, fingers tracing a trail up his abdomen. “We can’t just pretend like this isn’t happening.”

“It’s not,” Steve fired back. His sanity depended on that knowledge. This wasn’t real. None of it was. It wasn’t happening. There was no place on this earth in which he’d find himself so intimately close to another man. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

“Oh, but it is, and now, I’ll make good use of it.”

“Tony—”

“You want me, Captain?” Tony asked. He bit at Steve’s lips again. “You wanna fuck me? Or do you like it the other way around, hm? Like to go on your knees and—”

“Not like this,” Steve said firmly, hating himself for not having shoved Tony off long ago. He wasn’t a weak leaf of a thing anymore; he _was_ Captain America. More importantly: He was Steve Rogers. And he wasn’t the sort of man who cowered under bullies. “None of it.”

“What is it you want, Captain?” Tony demanded. “You come here every night, looking as innocent as a freaking angel. That will stop now.”

Steve’s body tightened with weariness. “What do you— _Tony_!”

Words left him as Tony suddenly fell on his knees right before him. He didn’t wait a second, didn’t give Steve any time to think, before he opened his mouth and took Steve between his lips.

He closed his mouth around the tip, sucking on it briefly before letting go again. “Might as well have some fun,” he drawled, “Seeing as this is my dream and all.”

A long moan ripped through the air, when Tony shoved his mouth so deep onto Steve’s cock that Steve felt his head brushing the back of Tony’s throat. Steve’s hands trembled with a combination of self-loathing and arousal. His hands were on Tony’s shoulders—he could’ve stopped this moments ago. Tony’s body was muscled enough, but they both knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against Steve’s strength. And yet… this wasn't something he’d felt before. Nothing even close to this. Tony was swirling his tongue around him, before pushing his mouth so far down on him as it would go. A hand had busied itself with Steve’s testicles and it was damn hard to form a decent thought.

The part of Steve determined to keep his heart out of this pseudo-reality had apparently quit on him, and everything became painstakingly real. The feel of his erection pushing into Tony’s mouth, the hot whimpers tearing off his own lips, and the humiliating way his body responded.

The moment Tony had fallen down on his knees, Steve had been ready to push him off.His arms weren’t pinned. He could have Tony back on his feet in a blink. He could give him a stern lecture within an inch of his arrogant ass.

He could. And he would. At some point.

For now, his hands remained where they were, and instead of shoving Tony off, he let his fingers brush over the mob of his dark curls.

“You like this?” Tony rasped, when he let go of Steve momentarily. He looked up at him, and the sight of him kneeling, looking as debauched as he did, had Steve’s knees tremble hard. “You like me sucking you?”

Before Steve could answer, Tony’s tongue poked out to caress the underside of Steve’s cock. It was, admittedly, the single most indescribable sensation Steve had ever experienced—something he’d only heard the soldiers talk about. Something he always suspected he’d never experience.

And now, here he was. There were moans tearing through Tony’s lips and it did things to Steve’s mind, knowing that _he_ was the reason. That Tony enjoyed himself, even as he was the one giving him pleasure. He was _enjoying_ it.

Before he knew what was happening, his treacherous hand had reached the back of Tony’s head, his fingers grazing his hair with an odd combination of curiosity and nervousness. Even if the room around him remained imagined, _this_ felt definitely real. Before Steve could stop himself, a moan tore from his throat, slightly muffled, but loud enough for Tony to notice.

“You like this,” Tony gasped, as he pulled back to look up at Steve. “God, how you look…”

Steve blinked rapidly. Tony was telling _him_ how he looked? He still couldn’t believe what was happening, Tony had said all those _things_ , and suddenly, he had him in his _mouth_.

“I—I don’t know what… what…” Steve stuttered, his voice shaking.

Without warning, Tony pulled back completely. And to Steve’s surprised embarrassment, the first thing that ran through his mind were words of protest.

“Shit, I’m an ass,” Tony breathed, stepping away from Steve. He shook his head, as he stared at him. “I’m sorry.”

More blinking. Did he really just apologize for… for doing this to Steve?

“You really have never done this. Never had someone take it in the mouth.” To Steve’s amazement, his face fell with something that looked a lot like shame. “Right, Captain?”

“Steve,” he corrected, even as his skin reddened.

“Steve,” Tony said. A long, tortured groan tore through the air. Tony’s eyes fluttered shut. “I’m a jerk,” he murmured. “I’m such a jerk. Your first time shouldn’t have… but Christ, why the hell do I even _care_? This isn’t real! It’s not like this is happening…”

Steve found the torn confusion in Tony’s voice oddly comforting.

Tony’s eyes raked the length of him and Steve was painfully aware that he still stood here with his cock hanging out of his pants. As if reading Steve’s thoughts, Tony’s eyes flickered to his erection. “But you liked it, didn’t you?”

It was his dream, so he should be able to control how fast his heart was beating or how red his skin became. He _should_ —but he couldn’t. “I…”

Tony’s eyes twinkled as he cocked his head. “You don’t have to answer,” he replied, licking those sinful lips of his. “I can see how hard you still are.” He stepped closer again and ran a comforting hand down Steve’s arm.

“I’ve never felt this way,” Steve admitted.

Tony smiled, and for the first time since their very first meeting, it looked friendly. “You’re so different than my dreams of you before,” he whispered.

The note of near reverence in his voice was such a step away from anything Steve had heard from him. Therefore, it took him a moment to decipher those words.

“Your dreams of me?” he asked. “Of ‘before’?”

“Oh, I dreamed of you for years, basically my whole youth. But you weren’t like this, not so…” He swallowed, and words seemed to fail him. “You’re different.”

Once again, Steve wondered how old Tony was. He couldn’t be older than twenty-five, maybe younger. And yet everything he did, and said, made him seem so much older.

“This isn’t real,” Steve reminded him, but his brows were furrowed. “Right?”

“Feels real,” Tony murmured, though he shook his head a second later. “But no… it can’t be. I know for a fact that I’m sleeping in my workshop right now. Tomorrow, I have a board meeting, and I gotta hire a new PA, because my last one was a guy with a bad habit of vomiting on my shoes every time he had to hold a presentation.”

Steve exhaled slowly, his wide eyes enamoured with the man in front of him. He had to file that information away and keep it safe. He couldn’t forget. Tony might never share anything else about his life.

“Can I…” Tony prompted as he neared him once more. Steve had no idea what went through his head, but with some hesitation, he curled his fist around Steve’s length. “Is that okay?”

Steve breathed a choked moan, thrusting forward in time with the strokes of Tony’s hand. “Yes…”

“Good. Just move with me,” Tony murmured, flashing Steve a reassuring smile. His movements had Steve’s insides burning almost to the brink of pain.

“I need…” Steve said, his voice hoarse. He had no single idea what he needed, but it became more imperative by the second.

“I know,” Tony said—he almost cooed. “I’m gonna suck you again, alright?” He took Steve’s hand in his and with a pointed look, he led him to the large bed.

Steve blinked. “I—”

“Just like before,” Tony said as he ushered him to sit down. “Tell me when you want me to stop.”

There was every chance he would regret this tomorrow. Dream or not, this was pushing everything past borderline to real. Made it official that this was something he wanted, too. Being with a man like this. And he _did_ —he wanted it here. In this place composed of nowhere, with the weird-looking furniture and the wrong New York skyline. There wasn’t a world outside these walls. There wasn’t anything but a motel room, and something kept bringing him here.

Tony was kneeling again, and he held Steve’s gaze as his mouth dipped toward his cock. His tongue tentatively curled around the tip of him, sucking him between his lips.

“Oh God,” Steve whimpered, arching upward and urging his cock deeper inside Tony’s mouth.

“Mmmm…”

“I’m not gonna last,” he gasped and although he had no single idea what kind of behaviour was appropriate during a—a _blowjob_ —but he found himself moving with Tony in no time. He followed him whenever he started to slide away, determined to keep him where he wanted him. Tony’s tongue rubbed his underside almost roughly, then took time to skim the length of him as Steve pumped himself between his lips.

“Gotta stop,” Steve warned and Tony froze for a second, his brown eyes trailing upward. His mouth, however, remained stubbornly locked around him.

“Gonna come,” Steve explained. “You don’ want—”

Eyes narrowed in defiance, Tony huffed and sucked him in as far as he could. What he couldn’t take into his mouth, he rubbed with his free hand. He drew Steve in until his head was once again pressed to the back of his throat.

Steve’s eyes went so wide it nearly was painful. Tony wanted—he really wanted to—

But Tony merely kept on swallowing. He swallowed as Steve bucked wildly off the bed. As he shook and moaned. As he spilled himself into his throat, making a prayer of his name with every breath that left his lips.

This had sealed his fate. Steve’s life wouldn’t be the same after this. Reality didn’t matter anymore. Not with Tony looking at him as he was now.

Tony wiped his mouth with his fingers, before licking his thumb clean. His cheeks were beautifully flushed and his eyes blown wide with— _something_.

Everything had changed. It’d happened so fast, but everything had changed.

“Steve…” Tony started as he pulled back. He opened his mouth to say more, but it was then that sirens resounded all around Steve and he jerked awake.

 

* * *

 

Tony had wanted to say something before he woke up, Steve was certain of it. He’d licked his lips with that tongue of his and opened his mouth to speak…

Then the sirens had cut through his dream-world and the room around Steve had vanished. Somehow, the night had run away from him. One minute, he’d been with Tony and the next he was back on his cot, and woefully alone at that.

Steve wasn’t sure how he made it through the day. Going back to his daily routine after… _all of that_ was difficult enough, but planning a war, forming a new team, discussing tactics—it really took every ounce of concentration.

Later, they drove towards northern Italy. With Bucky and Dugan and Morita and Falsworth and all of the others. They were good fellas, each of them specialists in their own field. Well, Dugan was mostly a specialist in cigars, whiskey, and ladies, but that had a certain benefit in itself.

Steve was really lucky to have them at his side.

While logically he knew he’d done nothing wrong, and that nothing had changed, he couldn’t help the way his insides flushed whenever Bucky glanced at him. It wasn’t like he could _control_ his realistic might-not-be-dreams, nor could he control how his heart yearned to go back to sleeping.

Bucky suspected something, though he never said anything to him. He probably thought he missed Peggy, and while that was the case, he knew now it wouldn’t develop into anything. And he thought that Peggy knew it, too.

And yet, there were the doubts. Everything in those dreams was too real—too specific. There were no turns or inconsistencies; even the room was always the same. Dreams weren’t that specific, right? And that meant that something was going on.

He wondered if Tony thought of him this much when he was awake. He wondered if he thought of him at all. He was also wondering where Tony lived. He didn’t have any kind of accent, so Steve supposed he had to be American, maybe a New Yorker, too, but otherwise…

Tony somehow didn’t fit into anything. With his goatee, and his extravagant suits, it almost felt as if he didn’t belong into this world at all.

 

* * *

 

When Steve fell asleep that night, Tony already waited for him. The second he saw him standing in front of the door, he stood up from the bed. “Look, I’m sorry.”

Steve blinked, dumbfounded. “You’re what?”

“Last night… I wasn’t myself. Obi’s driving me nuts, and I…” A long, tortured laugh tore through his throat. “I’m sorry, all right? I shouldn’t have done it. Not without your consent.”

Steve licked his lips and exhaled slowly. “Takes two,” he said, admitting, for the first time, that he’d wanted this just as much as Tony had. “I could’ve stopped you at any point.”

Tony opened his mouth to reply, then paused and frowned. There was nothing for several long, endless seconds.

“Right, you’re… Captain America,” he said to himself, as if only just now realizing what that meant, exactly. His gaze got distant for a moment, before they locked on Steve again. “What is the date today?”

Steve thought for a moment. “Uh… September 28th, I think.” It was hard to keep track of time, sometimes.

Tony sighed, but he didn’t say anything more for a good minute. Instead, he started pacing. He walked about the room, his eyes sometimes dropping on the half-filled tumbler that dutifully waited for him on the nightstand. He never walked over there, though, instead he kept brushing his fingers through his hair as he walked.

“Tony, what is it?” Steve eventually asked cautiously. He was used to Tony ignoring him, even to his anger, but now he looked as unhinged as he’d ever seen him.

“I just… I don’t know what to do,” Tony explained. “We keep coming back here, and I tried to ignore you, and it didn’t help. And then last night, I wanted to… I don’t even know what I was thinking. There was the argument with Obi, and I drank too much, and fell asleep on those stupid missile blueprints he wants to have, and then there was _you_ …” He exhaled, his shoulders rolling back. “I didn’t realize you were _him_ before, but it makes sense, right? Of course I’d be dreaming of you when my life goes to literal hell. You were always there when I needed someone and I… I wracked my brain trying to get over the idea that I might’ve hurt you, and it’s crazy…”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Steve said softly, as he stepped closer. All of this, each and every word Tony said, didn’t make the slightest lick of sense to him. He’d been there for Tony? What was that supposed to mean? But he knew he wouldn’t be getting any answers. It didn’t work like that with Tony, he never explained himself.

And maybe it was for that reason, that instead of asking Tony what the hell he was talking about, he simply cupped Tony’s cheek, and kissed him softly.

It felt more right than anything else in Steve’s life right now.

“Whatever it is,” he told him. “We’re both in it together.”

Tony looked up at him with his big brown eyes that had Steve’s heart skip a beat every time he stared into them directly, and a tiny smile rose to his lips. “That’s something only you would say,” he said, huffing softly, before he leaned in and slowly kissed Steve back.

 

* * *

 

They talked a bit more after that. They talked, and sometimes kissed, but it never went beyond that. Tony never initiated something. He probably thought Steve couldn’t handle it, and Steve—well, he didn’t know how to tell Tony that that wasn’t the case at all.

He kind of missed touching Tony, but if it meant they had a chance to get along a little better, and maybe get to actually know each other, Steve was okay with that. For the moment.

They talked about both of their lives, about Steve’s mother, and Bucky, and the war. Tony had told him he was some kind of engineer, though Steve had a feeling he was downplaying this a whole lot. He’d also told him that he’d recently lost a family member named Jarvis, but apart from that, he didn’t give much of anything personal away.

He _loved_ talking about his work, though, about machines he wanted to built, and things he wanted to invent, and it was all so far over Steve’s head, he could only listen to him in pure amazement.

In any case, after all those months they’d spent here together, there was no anger in Tony’s eyes anymore. No loathing. And on most days, Steve couldn’t wait to go to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The war was… it was taking parts out of him. Tiny parts, but Steve felt as all those horrors, each and every day, slowly but steadily wound their way into his heart.

Talking with Tony helped. Every night, they would sit together on the huge bed, and Steve would tell Tony what had happened that day, which HYDRA base they’d raided and how many lives they’d saved.

He kept the gut-wrenching parts to himself—the people they couldn’t save, the lives they’d left behind—but he saw it in Tony’s eyes that he understood anyway.

He had that calming way about him—how he’d ask Steve a few little questions here and there, like where they were right now, if it was cold outside, how his team was doing. He still wasn’t sharing much information about himself, at least not any specifics, but Steve figured Tony simply needed a bit more time to fully trust him. In any case, Tony’s presence helped calm Steve’s mind a lot, and whenever he woke up, he did it with a bit of newfound strength to face yet another day.

“Don’t wanna wake up,” Steve murmured as he glanced to the large window front. It was still dark outside, but there was now a sliver of red filling the horizon, and he knew that the sun would rise soon.

They were lying on the bed, the covers draped over them. It was warm and cozy, and however foreign the motel room had felt at first, it was wonderfully familiar now.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the covers, the whole air, slowly started to smell like the both of them together.

“Me neither,” Tony said on a low breath. He leaned up a bit from where he lay cuddled against Steve’s side. He smiled down at him, and pressed a kiss against Steve’s cheek.

Steve was having none of it, he put a finger on Tony’s chin and pulled him in, taking a content breath as their mouths met.

He’d never imagined that life could be like this for him. To have someone he could simply touch and kiss whenever he wanted.

“Do you think… when I’m back home, when the war is over… that we can meet in person?”

Tony stared at him for a moment. He was obviously trying to keep his expression in check, but Steve saw it nevertheless: a pang of pure sadness, and it had Steve confused beyond measure. Was the suggestion really that out of the picture? He knew it would be difficult for two men, maybe impossible, but if he’d had the chance to meet Tony, he would take it without a doubt.

Tony tried forcing a smile to his lips, and he brushed his nose along Steve’s. “You have no idea how much I want that,” he whispered, and while it didn’t sound like a lie… there was something in Tony’s tone that suggested it was impossible.

Maybe Tony already was in a relationship? Maybe he had a girl at home, or even a family, and these dreams were just a little adventure for him.

Steve didn’t want to believe all that, but Tony’s hesitance to tell him about his life was becoming more and more noticeable.

On the one hand, he couldn’t wait for the war to be over, but he dreaded it all the same. There was no telling what the time after this would bring. More often than not Steve had wondered if some power had brought Tony to him just so he could bear through all of this. The night after Project Rebirth, when he’d wished for his life to gain some meaning—that had been the night when he’d first met Tony.

What if, as soon as the war was over, he’d lose Tony for good?

It was something Steve had come to depend on—the promise of Tony’s presence. Because no matter how confused these nights together had him, there was solace in them as well.

There was so much in his life that didn’t belong to him. The war, the horrible deaths he’d had to encounter every day. Even the Captain America persona. _This_ belonged to him. With as twisted and dangerous as it was, it was real. And it was his.

No one could take that away.

 

* * *

 

In the next night, Tony was, as usual, on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped over his lap. Today, however, his eyes were very serious when Steve stepped out of the shadows.

“Hi,” Steve said as he approached him a bit warily.

Tony smiled. “Heya, Cap— _Steve_ ,” he corrected himself when he saw Steve’s stern look.

Steve neared the bed, holding Tony’s intense stare. His eyes all but swallowed Steve whole as he moved. He had such gorgeous expressive eyes. Steve had been so foolish to believe Tony wasn’t every bit the type of guy Steve would find himself drawn to.

And not just drawn. Tony was… he’d become so much more to him.

Back then, his mother used to say the mind fought ninety-nine percent of the battle. And up until now, Steve’d thought she was right about that. While he’d often found himself looking at other men, _wondering_ , he’d never had any problems not to act on it. When he’d thought about his future, it had always been so clear that he’d eventually marry a nice dame, if she’d have him, and start a family.

Now, though, the man in front of him was as temptingly perfect as Steve could’ve ever imagined. And the more time passed, the more he yearned to keep him for always.

He was standing in a foreign motel room, and it felt real. It felt so real that he was having an increasingly harder time convincing himself that his body was actually lying on a cot in a now-icy cold Italy. That he was wrapped in thick blankets, sleeping in a small tent with Bucky and his other team members. He knew that, but it didn’t make the motel room feel any less real.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Tony said eventually, and _ah_ , that was what the serious eyes were for.

Steve swallowed, and sat down next to him. “Yeah?”

He had a feeling he wouldn’t like this conversation. While he’d wished to find out more about Tony, he knew that there was every chance the new information would kill all hope for him.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Tony said, as he reached for Steve’s hand. “I was… I’m sorry I didn’t say much of anything when you asked me to meet you, I…” He took a deep breath. “Trust me, it was the truth when I said there’s literally nothing I’d like to do more than meet you in person.”

Steve’s heart started to hammer in his chest. “So you’re not… you’re not married?”

Tony’s eyes almost bogged out of his face. “M-married?” He released a surprised laugh. “No, I’m… trust me, I’m as far from ‘married’ as you can possibly imagine. I’m the least-married guy in the world right now. It’s… look, maybe I should tell you that I’m not exactly marriage-material. If there was a certificate for that, I’d have three.”

 _I’d marry you_ , Steve thought, and felt himself freezing. That was… he had no idea where that thought had come from, and he fought hard not to let the shock over his own words show. “That’s… that’s a relief,” he said instead.

Tony chuckled, but his expression turned serious once more only moments later. “Steve, I… I would do anything in my power to meet you, but I can’t.”

All hope died with Tony’s words.

“Why not?”

Tony grimaced. “Steve, you’re in Italy right now, November 1944, right?”

“On our way to Swiss, actually,” Steve corrected, and frowned. “But yes. Why does it matter? I know the situation looks grim, but once the war is over—”

Next to him, Tony shook his head, the hand around Steve’s squeezing him slightly. There was something in his eyes, when he looked at him. Some terrible knowledge. “It’s… okay, this will sound crazy, but there’s really not a good way to break it to you.” He took a deep breath. “Where I am, it’s 1996.”

Everything… stilled.

That was—that was _impossible_ , wasn’t it? Almost instantly, his gaze wandered across the motel room, across the abstract painting, and for some reason, he couldn’t doubt Tony’s words. The room, everything had always seemed just the tiniest bit off, like it was something that didn’t belong in Steve’s world.

Because it belonged in Tony’s.

“But… how?” he breathed.

Tony shook his head miserably. “I have no idea. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I guess I was still expecting for some sort of explanation, but… I mean, _fuck_ , Steve, we can’t really go on and tell ourselves that this is normal, can we?”

“So you think it, too?”

Tony arched an inquisitive brow. “Think what?”

“That… well, that we’re sharing dreams. Or that… it’s real?” He bit his lower lip uncertainly. “I mean, obviously not real-real, because I’m definitely sleeping on a tiny cot right now. And you’re… wherever you are.”

“California,” Tony told him with a small smile and squeezed his hand again. “That’s where I live. Born and raised in New York.”

Another thing to file away deep inside his heart.

“So even if this is real…” Steve started weakly, the gears in his mind twisting and turning with realization.

“Yeah,” Tony said with defeat in his voice.

Between 1944 and 1996… that was a whole lot of years. He had no idea how this worked, or why they had found each other over time and space, but it had to mean something, right?

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Tony told him. “I’ve read a few things about… about dream sharing. Most of it is just some weird esoteric bullshit, but there were a few things that made sense. And all of it said that dream sharing is mostly about the two people feeling some kind of connection, and we… we didn’t.”

“We do now,” Steve said before he could think it through. The words were out his lips and he pressed his eyes closed, as if in pain. He shouldn’t have said that, Tony wouldn’t want for him to force his feelings on him and—

Suddenly, Tony had Steve’s face captured between his hands, and pressed his mouth to his. “We do,” he agreed heatedly.

Steve nodded and that was it. Everything around Steve melted. Tony’s tongue slipped between his lips, and with a long whimper, Steve became his completely. There was no taste in the world that could rival Tony’s; and the more he took, the hungrier he became.

Perhaps none of this meant anything—he didn’t know. All he knew was that Tony had pushed him down on the mattress and was now pressed against him, full-body. His hard cock rubbed against Steve’s pyjama-clad erection, inciting small whimpers from his mouth and stirring the fire he’d started that first night back to full glory.

“Steve,” Tony whispered, slipping a hand between them, his fingers dancing in light movements across his stomach, until he reached the waistband of Steve’s pants. “Damn it, I want you so much. Every second of every day. You’re all I think about.”

“You… you, too, Tony. _Always_.”

“I want to keep you,” Tony said and Steve threw his head back and moaned when Tony’s lips pressed a series of hot, wet kisses down his throat.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes.”

“Last night… you disappeared before I could tell you how much this means to me.”

“I woke up.”

“Don’t do that,” Tony breathed. “Don’t ever wake up.”

If it only were so simple. “Don’t wanna. Wanna stay.”

Tony pulled back at that, looking down at him. “You do?” he asked softly, an awed look flashing across his beautiful face. “You wanna stay here?”

Tony was barely touching him, so Steve thrust his hips forward a little in hope of luring his hand lower. He needed him to touch him _everywhere_. “Yes,” Steve said, and on a second thought, he added, “I wanna touch you.” He didn’t know where this sudden boldness was coming from, but it was rushing through his veins like molten lava. It was just Tony with him—he didn’t need to hide from him. “All of you. All the time. I… I wanna know how you feel around me, and everything you said that first night… I wanna… I wanna do everything with you.”

“ _God_ ,” Tony said with feeling. His lips moved down to Steve’s nipples, sucking one of them through Steve’s shirt, as he fisted the hem of it and pulled it out of his pants. He brushed another kiss across the skin of his chest, pulling the shirt off of him. “You’re so perfect,” he breathed with a look of awe.

“Perfect?” Steve echoed. “I’m… I’m really not.”

“Oh, you really are.”

“I… I haven’t always been like this,” Steve admitted, and it had Tony’s eyes lock on him with intent.

“I know,” he said, smiling, “but I wasn’t talking about your body, darling. That one’s kinda perfect, too, sure, but… I meant _you_. You are perfect to me.”

Steve swallowed, staring up at Tony and he didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t talk like Tony, didn’t have his way with words, but he felt the same. Tony was perfect for him, too.

With shaky movements, Steve lifted his hips as Tony stripped the fabric of his pants down his legs. And then, for the first time in his adult life, he was lying completely naked in front of someone else. A man whose kisses still burned his lips. A man who lived in a whole other time.

A man he might have fallen in love with.

“You _are_ beautiful, though.” There was something in Tony’s voice that rattled his insides. Steve shivered and looked up just as the back of Tony’s knuckles grazed the trail of hair on his abdomen, slowly moving downwards. He was staring at Steve’s dick like a man possessed, his eyes searing with lust.

Then, without ceremony, Tony sat up a bit, settling on top of Steve, bringing their middles together. He lined them up, and after spitting into his hand, wrapped it around both of their erections. Sparks detonated across Steve’s skin, as an inhuman moan ripped through his throat. His body was aflame, his blood bubbling with elation so pure it had to be illegal.

Steve sucked in a breath and moaned Tony’s name aloud, his hips arching off the bed and right against Tony’s groin.

It felt— _all of this_ —it felt like Tony had at some point crawled inside his skin and made himself at home. Steve knew deep inside that his life would never be the same.

“You’re so responsive,” Tony said with shuddering breaths. His face was flushed, his eyes almost manic with need.

And Steve was desperate to keep his eyes on him—addicted, as he was, to the sight of Tony’s gorgeous face. And now that he was all but convinced this was real—or as real as the dream allowed—the thought that he was truly doing this with another man was nearly too much to handle.

“Just close your eyes and imagine it,” Tony whispered against his lips as he leaned down again. “We’re in a real bed, in a real world. We’re together. You’ll open me up, finger by finger, and push in me, and nothing can separate us again.”

The idea alone made Steve sob. Tony’d let Steve have him; he knew he would. But it’d leave him ruined for anyone else, and all too soon he might not dream of Tony again, and where would that leave him?

This had happened too fast. He’d lost himself too damn fast.

“You gonna let me do it?” Tony rasped, the steady slide of his hips had Steve dangerously close to climax. “You gonna let me show you how good it can be?”

“Tony, I…” Steve trembled hard, his enhanced cells compounding closer and closer to the ambiguous edge of something he’d never felt before. Not like this. Shapes blurred around him before his eyes were blinded by white, his nerves quivering and ecstasy. “ _Oh_ …”

“Yeah, come for me,” Tony bid him hoarsely.

As if on command, Steve threw his head back, his hips lifting off the mattress. His body sizzled and exploded, doused so deep in rapture that he didn’t know how to ever breathe normally again. It lasted forever, and yet, it was over too soon. Sweat lined Steve’s brows and when he looked down, he felt all remaining breath leaving him.

Tony had sat up again, his head thrown back, lips open, his back in a beautiful, perfect arch. His hips were still moving, gliding so sensually over Steve’s middle as his right hand moved over their cocks.

The sight was… unlike anything Steve had ever encountered, and he felt himself stiffen once more. Once Tony cried out and added to the already cooling come on Steve’s chest, a surprised groan tore through Steve’s throat. He fisted both hands into the bedsheets, bucking up. There was the sound of cloth tearing, and he gasped and twitched and couldn’t believe himself as he came a second time.

By the time the world returned to him, he was dizzy with sensation.

Tony had lain down next to him, resting his cheek against Steve’s shoulder and gently running his fingers over his chest, spreading the come a little. It should probably gross him out to some degree, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He was lost. God, Steve was so lost to him.

It was a cruel world that awaited him beyond the dream—Steve shivered hard and begged for some strength.

“That was the single most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Tony whispered, breaking the silence and brushing a small, tender kiss across Steve’s heart.

“Back at you,” Steve murmured. He tried moving his legs somewhat, and it was futile—he’d never felt so completely worn out since he’d been injected with the serum. He glanced sideways. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Tony whispered.

When he’d thanked him, he’d been thinking about the last few minutes, but now that Tony was looking at him in question, he realized it wasn’t what he really had to thank him for.

“For seeing me,” he said instead.

Tony smiled timidly. “I don’t know how anyone could _not_ see you. You’re as bright as the sun. And far too good for me.”

“Let me decide on that,” Steve said, and rolled around until he settled on top of Tony. He was painfully aware that they should be doing some clean-up, but this was more important.

“I’m seeing you, too,” he told Tony softly.

“Not all that good, apparently,” Tony countered, and it was always like this with him. He was bold and flashy and his words were meant to show that he didn’t care either way, but beneath all that, he was the most vulnerable person Steve had ever come across.

So Steve framed his face with both hands, and leaned in until their mouths were almost touching. “I have enhanced sight,” he said, “and you have a good heart, whether you want to admit it or not.”

Tony huffed—a shaky little sound. “I don’t know what this is,” he whispered. “It’s either driving me mad or bringing me back to life… and fuck if I know which.”

Steve wove his fingers through Tony’s hair and sighed, but said nothing.

This might not be permanent, but it had left a permanent mark in Steve’s heart. All he could do right now was enjoy it and hope it wouldn’t hurt too much when he remembered who they were… _when_ they were… and how easy it would be never to see Tony again.

He needed to keep it together. There was still a war to be fought, and they finally had a lead on Arnim Zola. Tomorrow, they’d lead a stealth attack on one of HYDRA’s trains, and maybe they’d finally make some headway of getting to Schmidt.

 

* * *

 

Nothing in Steve’s life was all right anymore.

Bucky was _dead_ , fallen into an icy abyss right in front of his eyes. He hadn’t managed to catch him in time and all Steve could do now was stare at the scotch in front of him and curse Abraham Erskine for not telling him that his new body wouldn’t allow him to get drunk.

Peggy had left only a few moments ago, and a part of Steve longed for her to hold him and keep the pain away, but he knew as soon as he closed his eyes, Tony’d be there. When he closed his eyes tonight, he’d be there. Tony would be there. Waiting for him.

It was all that mattered.

With Bucky gone, everything was in question now. Everything had slowed around Steve. He knew the world was in danger. True danger. He knew it all, but the distance between knowledge and action seemed endless. He couldn’t move. He was literally frozen in place—staring at the broken pub around him as the world provided a true definition of slow motion.

 _I don’t want to fight anymore,_ he thought briefly, closing his eyes as tears began to fall.

 

* * *

 

He sat in the bar for a whole long while that night. Bucky’s death kept him shell-shocked, and he lay awake long. Only by the time the moonlit sky faded into morning, Steve’s heavy eyes conceded the battle to fatigue, and he fell into a troubled sleep.

Tony’s head jerked up the second Steve barrelled through the door. And the second their eyes clashed, the most potent wave of sadness Steve had ever felt flooded his veins, weighing down on him.

“Thank god,” Tony breathed. He rushed to his feet and threw his arms around Steve’s neck, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

Steve stood still in his arms. Then, his arms slowly wound around Tony’s shoulders.

“I was so worried,” Tony breathed. “What happened?”

Steve shook his head, realizing he couldn’t talk about it. He just needed proof Tony was real. He needed proof he wasn’t hallucinating within a dream. Thus, with conviction, he pulled his head back just slightly and cupped Tony’s cheeks, kissing him. Steve wanted to crawl up inside him—he wanted Tony to feel the thundering beat of his heart and taste the tears on his lips and realize that this was the only thing that kept him upright right now.

“Steve…” Tony reached behind his neck, wrapping his hands around his wrists, even as his mouth couldn’t help but steal sweetly soft kisses from him. He pulled his hands off, so he could look at him. “Steve, what happened? You can tell me everything.”

Steve grimaced and forced the words out. “I… I lost someone today.”

“Oh,” Tony breathed, his brows furrowing. “I’m so sorry.”

“He fell,” he explained brokenly. “He fell and I couldn’t catch him.”

Tony stared at him for a moment, and confusion gave way for realization. He sighed, then pressed his forehead against Steve’s. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You can’t know that.”

“It _wasn’t_ …” Tony persisted. “You did everything you could. You’re _Captain America_.”

“That’s just a name…” Steve said. “I’m still me, and I lost him.”

Tony nodded and led him to the bed. He made him sit down, and followed suit right after. “I wish I could do something.”

“You’re here,” Steve said, shaking his head. “That’s enough.”

Tony smiled sadly. He’d pulled both of Steve’s hands on his lap, brushing his fingers over Steve’s with soothing movements. “I know you tried to save him. And Bucky chose to go with you.”

The words warmed Steve at first, but as soon as they settled in his head, he felt himself freeze. He pulled his hands back slightly, and stared at Tony’s face. “I never told you about Bucky.”

He’d told him plenty stories about his team, but he knew with perfect clarity that he’d never used Bucky’s name. Of course, Tony had always had a way of knowing things, but… there was no possible way he could’ve known about Bucky. Right?

Tony’s eyes flickered over his face briefly, before his expression turned troubled. “Right…”

“ _How_?” Steve asked.

“Steve, if this is real…” Tony swallowed, “if _you’re_ real, I already know everything.”

That had Steve move his hands away entirely. “ _Everything_? Did you know that Bucky would die, too?”

Tony remained silent, but the answer was all the same.

Steve stood up, turning on him with shaking hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, and it didn’t matter _why_ Tony knew all this, it only mattered that there might’ve been a way to save Bucky. “I could’ve saved him!”

Tony’s eyes were full of pain. “Where I am— _when_ I am—your life is… it’s already history.”

1996\. Of course, that would make sense. He’d be over 70 years old.

Still, it didn’t matter if he really was ‘history’ in Tony’s world and it didn’t matter if Tony had read about his life in a book—there had been a way to stop this from happening, and Tony hadn’t told him.

“I was afraid of what would happen if I’d change anything…” Tony said quietly.

“You should’ve _tried_!”

“And what then?” Tony snapped suddenly. “It doesn’t work that way! There’s… there’s history books about you. Everyone knows what happened to the great Captain America! Do you really think my meddling would change anything?”

Steve shook his head with confusion. “What do you mean?”

Tony walked across the room, ignoring his question. “I’ll probably dream of you for decades after this is over. I’m in too fucking deep. And this is so goddamn _unfair_. The dreams with you should’ve been easy. Should’ve been a wet dream and nothing else. I didn’t ask for this! For all these…” Tony broke off again. “I wake up a half-man, and who do I want there? You’re ruining me—you’re ruining everything—and when you’re gone, what will I fucking _do_ , Steve?!”

Steve’s wobbling legs were fighting to maintain balance. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “You keep mentioning… _something_. I don’t understand a goddamn word you say!”

“You’re dead!” Tony yelled, and his whole body was shaking terribly. There were tears stinging his eyes now, and his voice was hoarse. “You’re dead, okay? You _died_ , and I grew up hearing stories about you, but one thing was always very clear: One day, you vanished from earth, and you never came back!”

Steve stared at him. There was… there was nothing to say—what could he say?

He walked back a few steps and let himself fall down on the bed, his face buried in his hands.

Oh God.

Somehow, he’d known that something like this was going on. Not that he’d… _die_ , but… at times, there had been so much sadness and fear in Tony’s eyes, and he hadn’t known why, but it had been there nevertheless.

“Steve,” Tony said, and he felt him kneeling down right in front of him. “I’m… _shit_ , I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put this on your shoulders, just like that.”

“I love you,” Steve said, quietly and Tony stared up at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

It was true. His nights had thrived on the promise of Tony’s every touch, every kiss, and he’d lost himself without realizing the battle was over.

But now… How could he hope to keep this when he wouldn’t even survive this war?

“Steve…”

Steve shook his head. He couldn’t say anything. The air was cold against his skin. He was barren and exposed—virtually naked in front of Tony. Naked in ways he hadn’t been before. He’d finally unveiled the last part of himself that he’d tried to keep secret. It was his fault for falling in love with a ghost from the future, but it was also Tony’s for allowing it to happen. For making Steve believe, even reluctantly, he had reason to hope beyond dreaming.

When he’d known all along that he’d never even see the day the war would end.

“Steve…” Tony breathed, taking his face into his hands. “Steve… fuck, I love you, too, you hear me? I _love_ you.”

It was hard to find words for how much he’d hoped to hear those three words from Tony. He hadn’t dared to hope that someone like Tony could ever love someone like Steve. And now that he had them, he didn’t know what to do with it.

“What does it change?” he asked with a defeated breath. “Bucky’s dead… I will be dead soon.”

Tony shivered, shaking his head. “I can’t let you die,” he said urgently. “Maybe if I tell you how—“

“That’s not your _choice_!” Steve snapped. “You said so yourself!”

The fire died in Tony’s eyes a bit. “Steve—”

“I’d be an old man before we even meet. This… there’s no hope, don’t you see?”

“I wouldn’t care,” Tony said brokenly. “I fought this so hard, but now—”

“I didn’t ask for this, either!” Steve stood up once more and turned away, shaking hard. He really wished he could just walk through that door and be done with it. “Don’t pretend it’s been just hard on you, Tony. I would’ve sacrificed _everything_ for this… for whatever small part you were willing to give me.”

Suddenly, Tony’s hands clamped hard around his forearms and his mouth was pressed against Steve’s. And that was it. The last part of him clinging to sanity died.

He was going to die. He was going to die, and he’d never meet Tony in person. He’d never have this, never be with Tony.

“I have to go,” Steve said, forcing himself to hold himself upright. “I don’t wanna see you again.” With that, he brushed Tony’s hands off, and couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t be held when he knew. He’d _die_. They’d never meet. He jerked back.

“No, please don’t,” Tony said, running after him when Steve stormed towards the door, trying to follow. “Steve— _please_ don’t do it. Don’t step into that plane, don’t—”

The final piece of Steve chipped away. He dissolved in pain, and forcefully jerked himself awake the next second.

 

* * *

 

Steve didn’t want to know what he looked like when he walked towards his team’s quarters two days later. He stopped for a moment, tilting his head back as he enjoyed the icy winds. His eyes were raw, and fatigue claimed every muscle in his body. He was jittery from the horrible coffee he’d forced himself to drink over and over again and so exhausted from avoiding sleep he feared he might collapse.

But he couldn’t sleep. Not now. He couldn’t face Tony again before all of this was over.

In only a few hours, he’d fight Schmidt. He’d bring an end to this, and then, he would try to find help, and make those dreams go away. Perhaps it was time to end this impossible thing between them anyway. There were fifty years between them. Fifty years and only a few imaginary dreams they’d shared.

Of course, there was every chance he might die today, and if he didn’t—he simply didn’t want to lose anyone else.

He just wanted to rest.

“Steve?” Peggy asked, as she stepped up to him cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

A small smile stretched Steve’s face. “Wrong?” he repeated. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“Well… we won’t leave for another half hour, and I know you’re not here for the view.” She paused meaningfully as she glanced towards the dreary landscape in front of them. A small smile grazed her red lips, and for a brief moment, Steve thought they could’ve been happy together. “And you look kinda terrible. Is it Barnes?”

Merely mentioning Bucky’s name had his exhausted eyes watering all over again.

“I just need this to be over,” he said, pointedly avoiding Peggy’s gaze.

“It won’t be long,” she said. She reached for his hand, squeezing it softly. “After this, the future’s just waiting for you.”

She couldn’t know how wrong she was, of course, but her eyes were full of kindness.

Of compassion.

“You can do this, Steve.”

Steve squared his shoulders and nodded.

He felt the shield Howard Stark had given him resting safely on his back, as he let his gaze sweep over the mountains before him. He felt determination settle inside him like a long forgotten dream and he knew, even if this might be his last battle, he’d give it his all.

 

* * *

 

When Steve sat in the plane, staring at the endless ice in front of him, he wished desperately that sleep would take him before death could.

He said his goodbyes to Peggy, but he _wished_ —like he’d never wished for anything else—that he’d see Tony again. One more time. And yet, the dive into the endless ice was thoroughly dreamless. There was no Tony to caress his skin with his hands and mouth. No Tony to fill his heart with soft promises. No Tony to destroy him with his terrible knowledge.

There was no Tony. Only coldness.

And when the icy water surrounded him, Steve couldn’t help missing him. He missed him _so_ much.

What followed was a void of everything. Time was meaningless, and seconds became a tedious pattern of repetition. He wasn’t alive, he wasn’t awake—he was simply… there. In the deafening quiet, Steve couldn’t help but wonder what would have changed if Tony had told him earlier. Or how things might have been had Tony not invaded his dreams at all.

In that moment, Steve glimpsed into the eyes of his own mortality and realized his life might end any second. But right then, he was still alive. He was alive enough to remember, he still was… _somewhere_.

His death would be dreamless, but he wondered if Tony still dreamt himself into the room. If he thought about Steve at all while he was there, or if he was grateful Steve had finally made his exit.

He wondered.

And slept.

But didn’t dream.


	2. After

It was still early in the morning when Steve found himself standing in front of a large bathroom mirror. He stared at his own face for a long time, looking into his eyes until the objects in the background faded into a mass of blurred shapes.

Blinking, Steve stared down at his hands instead, moving them back and forth, as if they held the secrets of the universe.

He had experienced his share of wonders. Surviving his childhood. Surviving his youth. Surviving the army. Surviving the super-soldier serum. _Meeting Tony_.

This was definitely the second most wondrous.

Waking up after seventy years felt like such a right of passage. Like something pushing him over a threshold, before emptying a bucket full of cold water right over his head.

It was _2012_. And from what the director of that SHIELD organization had told him, he’d fallen into the ice at 1945. When he’d last seen Tony, he’d said it was 1996.

That was almost twenty years ago.

Steve shivered, his reflection blurring once more. The number was steadily echoing in his mind. Not the seventy years—but the twenty. He had no idea how he’d be able to ever fall asleep again. What if he found himself back in that motel room?

And what if he didn’t?

Steve was so wretchedly confused with himself he could barely move. Yet somehow, he managed to drag himself to the shower. His first shower after _seventy_ years.

The warm water was soothing, but when he towelled himself dry after, he still felt it. The ice. He knew, of course, that his body temperature was back to normal now. The doctors had put him through a bunch of examinations, and he was physically fine, but he could still feel the chill in every movement, even as he changed into his new clothes and went down to the cafeteria.

A woman who’d introduced herself as Natasha Romanov had told him to meet her there, and Steve didn’t have any problems finding the room, although he had to walk through several hallways. Only once he stood at the entrance, he had to stop for a minute to take it all in.

The lights were real bright. Once his eyes had gotten used to it, he realized how many people were currently in the cafeteria, all of them looking like they belonged into another time-line.

Which was, of course, exactly where he was now.

 _Seventy_ years. Twenty years from Tony’s time. He could only guess how much had changed in such a long time.

Natasha already waited for him, and with a smile, she pressed a steaming cup of coffee into his hands. He nodded his thanks and took a sip.

“That’s good,” Steve murmured as he swallowed down more. Definitely not the bitter brew he’d forced himself to drink on his last day on the front lines. A pang cursed through his insides at the thought of how he’d left things. He thought of Bucky and of the last things he’d said to Tony, and wrestled both down. “Thanks.”

“Come, sit with us,” Natasha said as she tugged him forward. “Steve, this is Agent Clint Barton, and Agent Phil Coulson.”

All of them SHIELD agents, Steve thought belatedly as he greeted them back. There was already a plate full of food in front of him. Eggs, cheese, ham, bread, and he really guessed he had to be grateful for all of this. Upon awakening, Natasha and that director—Nicholas Fury—had sat down with him and explained very calmly what had happened and where he was. There had been no games, no belittlement of the situation, they’d only told him what was what, and Steve was grateful for that.

Apparently some expedition had found him in the ice, and thanks to the serum, he’d been in Cryostasis. It was all something right out of fantasy stories, but here he was, and his surroundings made it all very real.

This definitely wasn’t the world he’d grown up in.

“They’re all looking at us,” Agent Barton muttered. He was an archer and had been working for SHIELD for a long time, if Steve understood correctly.

“At _him_ ,” Natasha corrected, casting Steve a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. News travel fast, it seems.”

“It was supposed to be a secret,” Agent Coulson said on a wistful note. “Fury will be…”

“… _furious_ ,” Barton concluded with a cheeky grin, and got a whack on the head for it by Natasha.

That had Steve smile as he took a bite of the scrambled eggs. Maybe these people weren’t so bad.

“If you aren’t careful, you’ll have to give all of them autographs,” Natasha told him, leaning a bit closer.

“Autographs?” Steve asked, confused. Of course he’d been a bit famous back in the days, and Tony had known about him, but all of that was long over.

“You’re a wartime-hero, Captain,” Coulson said. “One of the biggest in living memory. The world might be very different, but this country still remembers its heroes.”

Steve frowned. That was… hard to believe. He had only ever done his duty.

“He would know,” Barton said, grinning as he pointed a thumb in Agent Coulson’s direction. “He’s your biggest fan.”

“Barton,” Coulson warned.

“Okay, okay, that was a lie. He’s not your biggest fan,” Barton said with raised hands. “I mean, _he_ didn’t spend millions of dollars to find you, unlike… other people.”

Steve frowned. He guessed they were talking about the expedition that found him, but for some reason, he’d assumed it had been a SHIELD-issued operation. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

“It’s strange that Stark didn’t want to be here, after all of his fussing when they found you,” Natasha mused, and smiled when she noticed Steve staring at her in question.

“Stark?” he asked. “As in Howard Stark?”

“Yes,” Natasha said. “His son. He funded the expedition, upped the frequency by a good few hundred percents after his father died. Even made some of the flights himself. You’ll meet him, eventually. He’s kind of… a consultant for SHIELD, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. So you’ll run into each other at some point.”

Steve didn’t know if he was looking forward to that. If Howard’s son had spent so much money on finding him, he might have expectations, and Steve just… He had no idea what to think; how to feel about all of it. But he wasn’t ready to pledge himself to yet another case.

A part of him only wanted to walk back into his tiny room and lie on the bed until some of these things started to make sense.

And yet, he was too terrified to go back to sleep.

Eventually, though, the day started to wear on him. Natasha showed him the gym, then the library. She said he’d eventually get his own telephone, and something she’d called a ‘tablet’, promising he could research everything he wanted to know about the new world. For now, they didn’t want to ‘put too much on his shoulders at once’.

He’d felt a bit irritated by it, at first, but decided to agree. All of it felt too overwhelming already and Natasha looked to have his best interest at heart, so until he found proof of the contrary, he’d trust her.

When he settled in his bed with the too-soft mattress, his eyes were so heavy he fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t dream of Tony. Once he’d closed his eyes, he didn’t find himself back in the room, he only dreamed of the ice, an endless coldness. Somewhere in the distance, he saw brown eyes boring into him, heard someone call his name, but as soon as he jerked awake in the morning, he was alone.

The dreams were over. Tony was gone. And a terrible thought took hold in Steve’s head: What if Tony was dead? He’d only be in his forties now, but what if something had happened?

Steve curled himself into a ball, wishing, maybe for the first time, to be small again so he wouldn’t feel so horribly misplaced in this tiny bed.

He’d never gotten to fully embrace the love he’d felt for Tony. Had never even acknowledged Tony’s own declaration, though he had known how hard it had been for him to admit it to himself. If Steve closed his eyes, he could still feel it. How Tony had been cuddled against his back, breathing gently into his skin. Every few minutes his mouth would dip to explore Steve’s neck or his chest or whatever he was hungry for, whispering adorations against his skin.

Tony had systematically sewn back together Steve’s heart, piece by piece. And now he was gone.

He knew SHIELD had plans for him. They wanted him back in full-strength as soon as possible. Therefore, his week would be packed with many things. Like talking to a psychiatrist. And learning more about the new world. And training routines with Barton and Natasha.

He wasn’t fool enough to believe everything would be alright so soon. Not twenty-four hours had passed since he’d felt the walls of his own world caving in. He still had to wade through the aftermath. And even then he wasn’t sure how much hope to assign to the future. He knew this was his second chance—or figured as much, anyway—but even in the darkest chamber of his heart, he’d never imagined an explosion anywhere near that magnitude. He’d never anticipated being so thoroughly gutted.

Today, he wouldn’t leave his bed. Tomorrow he would deal with the consequences. Tomorrow he would start to pick up what was left of him and try to figure out where he would go from here.

Today belonged to him and his grief. And he would spend the time he had to remember the man he’d loved and lost too soon.

 

* * *

 

Even with a whole new world to uncover, Steve’s life managed to fall into a series of habits. On weekdays, he dragged himself from bed, showered, avoided everyone’s intense gaze at the cafeteria table, and went to work. He and Natasha would commiserate over the newest book he’d read and the newest documentary he’d watched on his insanely big television. He stayed in the gym for the most part of the afternoon, and afterwards, they’d train with that tablet-device he’d been given a few days ago.

He had a feeling he was slowly getting the hang of it, even the internet, but he still felt too slow, and most of what came out of people’s mouth was way over his head.

It made him wonder why he’d never had any trouble understanding Tony. Sure, in hindsight, he should’ve realized that Tony was no ordinary man—that something was special about him—but he’d never felt as lost around him as he did with most people here.

Natasha was a nice person, though. They got along well, and he might as well call her and Clint his friends now. They always kept him company at breakfast and dinner, and joined most of his sparring sessions.

Their shared weeks eventually wrangled a confession from Steve’s lips as to the confusing nature of his dreams. He couldn’t keep it to himself any longer, and he didn’t want to talk about it with his psychiatrist. At first, he’d thought Natasha would call him a lunatic and be done with it, but she’d sounded intrigued more than anything. That was probably a bonus of working within an organization that dealt daily with not-so-normal events and people.

“And when did the person live?” she asked him when they walked back to the living quarters. “You said they were from a different timeline?”

They always referred to Tony as ‘the person’, because even though Steve knew it wasn’t illegal anymore to be with another man, he couldn’t bring himself to share that bit of information, yet, and Natasha never asked.

“1996,” Steve told her quietly. “I didn’t know for most of the time. When they told me it was only a few days before I went under.”

“And you never thought about trying to find them?”

“It’s been sixteen years for them,” Steve reminded her with a shake of the head. “And anyway, I don’t know much about them, they were kinda… reclusive. I wouldn’t know where to start looking.”

“Really?” Natasha frowned. “From what you told me, you seemed close.”

“We were,” Steve said, and when he saw Natasha smiling knowingly, he felt his face heat. He cleared his throat, willing himself to keep his cool. “They just didn’t share much information that would help me find them.”

The only facts he knew were Tony’s first name, that he liked to work with machines, and that he’d once lived somewhere in California. He didn’t know much about this new world, but he knew there would be thousands of Tonys out there.

With him gone from Steve’s dreams, he would never find him again.

“The only specific I have is that they like to tinker with machines… There was nothing they talked about more. But that’s not exactly something I can write in that internet of yours and expect an answer, is it?”

Natasha hummed. “No. But I could ask Stark to search for them,” she offered. “As you might know, he’s good with finding people. He’s a technological genius, and I bet he’d find that dream-person for you in a heartbeat, no matter how little you know about them.”

Steve stopped. They were standing in front of his room now, and only when Natasha turned around, he realized he was staring. “Really?” he breathed.

He had wanted to meet Howard’s son, either way—even though he’d initially worried a bit that his efforts to find Steve would come with certain demands. But so far, he had never even showed up here, so Steve had likely been wrong about that.

Steve remembered it all so vividly. How Tony’d grin at him and rise to his feet the second he popped into the room. Then he’d storm forward and take his face in his hands, kiss his lips and walk him backward until they fell into a tangle on the bed. Tony had kissed him and every concern niggling Steve’s brain had melted into nothing. He’d caress him and hold him and let him be weak in a world where he was supposed to be nothing but strong.

“Yes,” Natasha said with a sympathetic smile. Steve didn’t know her all that long, but he’d gathered that she was very empathetic. And he had a feeling she could read him like a book. “I can almost guarantee he can do it. I could ask him to come over sometime, then you can tell him everything you know.”

Steve’s heart began to beat faster. Maybe he _could_ find Tony, meet him in person.

Then again… no one would’ve waited for sixteen years. Someone like Tony deserved more than that. He deserved a full life, a partner, maybe children. Steve didn’t know how he knew Tony was even still alive—he just did. He felt him everywhere he went. Today was no exception. And though he wanted to be selfish, he just wished he was happy, wherever he was now.

“I don’t know if they’d want to see me again,” Steve said.

“Look,” Natasha started, putting her hands on Steve’s shoulders. “I don’t know anything about shared dreams. Any number of things could have happened to give you these dreams. Perhaps it really was the serum, but I have no idea why you should share the dreams with a foreign person from another time. There is no telling, Cap.”

Steve mulled this over for a long moment. “I see.”

“But if I were them, I’d want to see you again,” she told him gently. “Don’t you?”

There was nothing Steve wanted more than that. Nothing in the whole new world.

And yet, he was scared. More scared than the whole time at the front lines. More scared than the moment he’d been injected with the serum, because if Tony looked at him with indifference, Steve wouldn’t know how to keep going.

“Steve, come on,” Natasha asked. “What do you have to lose? I can see that it’s eating you. Worst case, you’ll get some closure.”

“Alright,” Steve said after a moment, reaching a decision. Natasha was right, if he didn’t try to find Tony, he’d never get over it. “Ask Stark if he can be of help.”

Natasha smiled, satisfied. “Good choice.”

Steve huffed lowly. He really wasn’t so sure about that.

 

* * *

 

Last night, he had dreamed of Tony again. Just a normal dream, and how Steve could’ve ever believed that their shared dreams had been anything but real was beyond him now.

This one wasn’t, but it had still given him so much. There was warmth across the icy plains of his heart and though a part of him withered at awakening in an empty bed, the larger part of him was rejuvenated.

So much could change in his sleep. And maybe he’d get to meet Tony after all.

He’d dreamed of Tony lying in his arms. They had been outside, on some kind of balcony with the sea right beneath them. Tony had shifted on the lounger, looking up at him. There had been a soft and content smile playing with his lips when he’d told Steve that he’d be waiting for him forever, and he was stupid for doubting that even a second.

Those words followed Steve through his day. Tony was with him when he showered in his SHIELD room. He stood next to the window as he combed his hair. He smirked at him as he rifled through his new drawer and pouted when he put on clothes. He brushed his lips across Steve’s before he left his room, promising he would be there when he returned.

So Steve faced a new day.

The dream had done wonders to heal his wounds, but Steve wasn’t going to be blindsided again. Stark might help find Tony, and even if Steve’s absence had very likely extinguished all feelings, he wanted nothing more than to see him again.

 

* * *

 

“He said he can’t help you.”

Steve faltered in his next punch. The bag in front of him looked ready to tear apart, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He’d been in the gym for a while, though he hadn’t kept track of time.

“What?” he asked, as he put his hands on the punching bag, holding it still.

“Stark, he can’t help you.” She shook her head as she walked closer. “He was very clear about that.”

Steve raised a brow. He hadn’t even talked to the guy yet, hadn’t forwarded him any of the information he had on Tony.

He walked over to one of the benches and sat down on it. “How can he know that? He hasn’t contacted me.”

“Exactly,” Natasha said shortly. “And he doesn’t plan on showing up here any time soon.”

 _Which was strange_ , Steve gathered from the pensive expression on Natasha’s face. There was something in her expression, like she wanted to decrypt an enigma and only one puzzle piece was missing.

She took a seat next to him, shucking off her jacket and stretching her legs as she leaned back against the wall. “Look, Steve… I know you don’t want to tell me anything about your _person_ , but… I’d really like to know their name.”

Steve swallowed, though he tried not to show his unease. “I don’t see how that would be of help. I only got a first name.”

“Humor me?” she asked and cast him a reassuring smile.

Steve sighed. He wasn’t exactly ashamed, but it still felt odd to simply put it out there like that. He’d kept it a secret for so long, had never told anyone—not even Bucky—about Tony. And yet, maybe it was time to take that step now.

It wasn’t wrong, no matter how much they’d said so when he’d grown up. It was fine to feel that way for a man, and he knew Natasha wouldn’t look at him differently after.

“Tony,” he said on a breath. “His name is Tony.”

Natasha huffed, and Steve felt torn between straightening his back and making himself smaller.

“Sorry,” she said immediately. “That was… not because he’s a guy. Trust me, that doesn’t matter to me at all.”

When Steve glanced at her, there truly was no contempt on her face, and Steve felt a small relieved breath leaving his lips. Okay… it was _okay_.

“That probably hasn’t been easy for you, huh?” she asked after a moment.

“Easier than you’d think,” Steve replied. He started unwinding the bandages from his head, rolling them up as he went. “They were dreams. There was no one judging me. With Tony, I could just be… myself.”

“He sounds like a nice person,” Natasha mused, raising a brow at him for confirmation.

“He is,” Steve agreed, then chuckled. “He’s also a real jerk. Infuriating, crass, arrogant… but underneath all that, he’s a good man. That’s all that ever mattered to me.”

“Ah, I see,” Natasha said, and it might be Steve’s current state of mind, but she looked almost a bit amused. “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe talk to Stark again… I think he owes me a few explanations. By the way, did you ever read the file Fury gave you on him?”

Steve furrowed his brows. “On Stark? No, I’ve… I wasn’t really there yet. He said there were files on Peggy and my team, too, and I…”

“You weren’t ready. Don’t worry about it.” Natasha’s eyes flickered to the ground for a moment, before they settled on Steve. “Maybe I should be there, when you decide to—”

Suddenly, someone barged into the room. It was Coulson. His tie was a little askew, and it was the least put-together look Steve had ever seen on him.

“I've been looking for you,” he said, glancing meaningfully at Natasha. “Maria just called. Project Pegasus is down.”

“What?” Natasha looked alarmed.

“Yeah,” he said, then heaved a great breath. “Fury will brief us on the details, but… whoever attacked the base, they got Clint.”

“Shit,” Natasha exhaled, and Steve realized he had never heard her curse before. So it had to be bad.

“What’s Project Pegasus?” Steve asked.

“It was a… research facility.”

“And what did you research there?”

Natasha sighed, and Steve didn’t miss the way she glanced at Coulson with unease.

More secrets, it seemed.

“I think Fury will want to tell you himself,” Coulson told him. “You’ll meet him at the Helicarrier. I’ll bring you.”

Ah. The flying aircraft carrier Steve had yet to see.

“And you?” he asked, looking at Natasha. “Won’t you be coming with us?”

Natasha smiled, and there was visible tension in her shoulders. She glanced at Coulson, who nodded. “No,” she told Steve. “I have to make a short detour to Calcutta. But I’ll meet you there.”

She bent down to grab her jacket. “Hey, but there’s one benefit,” she called over on her way out of the gym. “You get to meet Stark. That’s something even he can’t ignore. So maybe you can ask him yourself why he won’t be of help.”

Steve frowned as he stared after her. “How will I know him if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you’ll recognize him!” Natasha called over and cast him a smug smile before she walked through the door.

 

* * *

 

Steve was standing in his cabin on the Helicarrier, unpacking a few things. Coulson had told him he didn’t know how long the mission would last and how much time they’d need to find that… _Asgardian God_ , so he’d better make himself at home here, for now.

It still didn’t make any sense.

Letting himself sink down on the bed, Steve put his face into both of his hands. Apparently, SHIELD had found the Tesseract when they’d extracted him from the ice, and Steve felt a boiling frustration in his insides that no one, not even Natasha, had deemed it necessary to tell him. Only now, now that a _God_ had stolen it, he was useful enough.

_Tap tap._

Steve’s head jerked up as his eyes settled on the door. “Yeah?”

_Tap tap._

Steve’s feet met the floor. Slowly, he unlatched the lock of the door and pushed it open.

In a blink, his dismay washed into pure and utter disbelief, his heart beating faster when his eyes locked on the man in front of him. He couldn’t see his eyes, because they were shaded behind impenetrable sunglasses, but there was no mistaking him.

The hair, those lips, the perfectly groomed goatee…

Impossible. It was _impossible_.

“Hello, Captain Rogers,” Tony said with a polite yet distanced tone. “I think we haven’t met yet.”

Tony was here. It was… how had this happened? How had he found him? And _here_ —on a flying airship of all places.

Steve blinked as his eager eyes took Tony in. Long gone was the cocky young man. Tony was still beautiful, of course, still boyishly handsome, and he’d obviously aged very well, but there was something world-weary in his features now. The face of a man who had lived a very hard life.

Steve wanted to pull him into his arms. He wanted to do so many things, but in that moment, Tony’s words registered with him. And when they did, Steve didn’t know what to think.

He thought they hadn’t met yet?

And true enough, there had been no remembrance in Tony’s voice. Maybe it wasn’t Tony after all, and his mind was just playing tricks on him?

“Captain?” Tony asked again, reminding Steve that he’d been staring for long moments. With a swift movement Tony pulled the sunglasses off his nose. The torn currents of his brown eyes burrowed into Steve’s with intensity that knocked the wind out of him.

No, there was no mistaking him. It was Tony. And yet, he didn’t seem to remember him.

“Sorry… it’s nice to meet you, too,” he finally managed to say, his voice positively shaking. He wanted to say more— _so much more,_ but if Tony truly didn’t remember him, he had to keep it together.

Something inside Tony’s eyes shifted. Was that disappointment? “I was told I could find you here,” he said conversationally. “I’m part of the Avengers for this gig, so I thought I’d introduce myself before we meet on the battlefield.”

“Introduce yourself…” Steve echoed, a bit overwhelmed with it all. _His_ Tony, the man he’d met in his dreams back in 1943 was standing in front of him, seventy years later, and was somehow his team member, ready to fight an alien God at his side.

He remembered how Tony had sat on their bed in the beginning, wondering if he was going mad, and Steve thought he could finally understand how he’d felt back then. There were too many coincidences. Too many things coming together. And Tony was standing in front of him and he didn’t remember what they’d shared.

Suddenly, Steve felt a loss so strong rush through his insides that he had to keep himself upright with a steadying hand against the door. His mind was torn—split with the agony of loving Tony and how much loving him had cost him so far.

“Hey,” Tony said with sudden worry in his voice. “St— _Captain_ , you alright?”

“No,” Steve breathed, because he couldn’t keep up any kind of façade. Not when he’d just lost Tony a second time. “I’m really not.” He had to get out of here, away from those eyes that were Tony’s and not Tony’s at all. “I… I don’t want to be impolite,” Steve uttered, trying to keep his voice firm. “It was nice to meet you, Tony, I just, I just need a moment to think before we have to go to debriefing and—”

“I didn’t tell you my name,” Tony said, and Steve had to look back at him in irritation.

“What?”

“I never told you my name.”

Oh. “Sorry,” he said. “I just…”

“So you know me?” Tony urged. He’d taken a step closer, and stared at him intently. “From some file, or…?”

Steve grimaced. “No. It’s a long story… and you’d never believe me.”

However, only seconds passed, before something in Tony’s expression shifted. The distance in his eyes faded, and a small smile appeared on his lips. “So the dreams were really true,” he mused, more to himself than anything. He huffed. “What about that.”

“You remember?” Steve asked, and God—it _was_ him. He’d just… waited for Steve to confirm it first. And he wanted to be mad at him for that, but the relief was rushing through him so potently, he couldn’t even be bothered. Tony remembered him. And he was here.

Despite everything, a shiver of fear raced down Steve’s spine. A real meeting meant no hiding. No jerking himself awake.

 _Real_ changed everything.

Tony offered a little wave with hand, which was enough to break Steve from his daze. The air between them was suspended. He heard Tony breathing. Watched the curve of his mouth as he smiled at him. “Surprise,” he said.

Steve smiled right back at him. “I’d say.”

“Sorry for that little stunt. I just… needed to know if you remembered.”

“I remember _everything_ ,” Steve said, and he’d meant it to sound hopeful, but somehow, it had Tony’s smile falter.

“I see,” he said. “Can I come in?”

Steve blinked. “Oh… oh yes.” He nodded and stepped aside. “There’s not exactly a lot of space in here.”

“I know, I designed the thing.”

“The room?”

Tony chuckled briefly. “No, Cap. The Helicarrier.”

Oh— _Oh_. Oh, wow, that was… impressive. And kind of not surprising at all.

When Steve closed the door behind them, every cell in his body was attuned to Tony. He shifted and the movement rippled across Steve’s body. Tony was in his room—he was in his space—and the only thing Steve could think was that he’d never truly felt Tony’s skin beneath his fingertips or known the taste of his lips. Not in the real world.

Before he could do something stupid like simply hug Tony to his chest, however, Tony had raised his voice again, and he sounded so business-like, so highly professional, that Steve didn’t dare try anything.

“I take it you weren’t expecting me to visit?”

Steve shook his head. “No. I didn’t… I didn’t know how to find you.”

“Yeah, I got that. Imagine my surprise when Natasha asked me to go looking for myself.” Tony turned around and cocked his head.

“ _Oh_ ,” Steve breathed in understanding. Now that he knew, the resemblance was obvious. “You’re… your name’s Tony Stark? You’re Howard’s son?”

And that also meant Tony was the benefactor who’d funded the expedition. His heart swelled. Tony had looked for him—had searched for over sixteen years. That had to mean something, right?

“Yeah,” Tony confirmed. “Didn’t really know how to break it to you gently. And don’t think the irony is lost on me. I condemned dad my whole life for spending so much time looking for you, trying to find you and bring you back home, and only a few years after his death, I’m following his footsteps like a good puppy.”

Steve swallowed. So that’s why Tony had tried to hate him so much in the beginning. They would have to talk about that, eventually, but now wasn’t the time.

“Do you regret it?” he asked.

“Regret?” Tony echoed, staring at Steve. “What, that I found you? God, Steve, no… trust me, I would’ve searched for a whole while longer. When you… after you vanished, I never dreamed of the room again, but I knew you were out there. So I went through my dad’s files, and I just… knew that he’d been close to finding you. Mom had forced him to tone down the expeditions. There had been one, maybe two flights per year, so I stocked up the funds, and…” He smiled. “Here you are.”

“Here I am,” Steve echoed, feeling his throat tighten at the knowledge that Tony had spent years—sixteen years—on finding him. Against all odds, he’d searched the whole wide ocean, and pulled him out of it. “Thank you.”

Tony nodded, his brown eyes a bit glassy. “You’re very welcome.”

They held their gazes a bit longer, and just when Steve had convinced himself that he could finally walk up to Tony and wrap his arms around his slim figure, Tony cleared his throat and took a step back.

“I’m sure you realize how much time passed.”

“It’s been a long time,” Steve agreed.

“I knew it was bound to be a bit weird,” Tony offered. “I know you never wanted to see me again, and I tried to respect that. I really did. Once this is over, I’ll go back to my life, and you’ll figure out what to do with yours, right?”

Steve blinked. He’d imagined their first real meeting a thousand different times. A thousand different ways. Never in his fantasies had he been stunned silent.

What was Tony talking about? Why would he think Steve wouldn’t want to see him again?

“It’s just that Fury has that annoying habit of calling me when shit goes down,” he continued, “and with that God on the loose, I think we need to work together for a bit. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

“Right,” Steve rasped, once more fully aware of how small this room was. He guessed it was what he should’ve expected. There _had_ been sixteen years since Tony had told him he loved him, after all. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Sorry for dying on you. Sorry you had to look for me so long.”

Tony’s fingers clenched into a fist, before he placed them, very carefully, on Steve’s shoulder. “Believe me, there’s nothing you have to apologize for. It’s a decision I made, alright? And you’re here, so it was all worth it.”

“But you don’t want me anymore…” Steve said, and pressed his eyes closed. _Shit_. This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted to do. Make Tony feel guilty that he’d moved on, when, after sixteen years, he had every right to fall out of love.

“Don’t _want_ you?” Tony repeated on a frown. “I… Come on, we both know that’s not what this is about. You realize I’m in my mid-forties now, right? You haven’t aged a day. Let’s be realistic here.”

“Realistic?”

Tony nodded. “Exactly. I admit I should’ve paid you a visit after my team found you, introduce you to this world myself, but I didn’t want to mess up your first weeks here. I’m not the man you met in your dreams. I didn’t want to guilt-trip you into something that’d make you uncomfortable.”

At Tony’s words, Steve felt his irritation rise. Did Tony really think he was that shallow? “Are you serious? That’s… that was your only reason? I didn’t know if you were dead or alive! I stopped dreaming about you and I half-convinced myself that the dreams hadn’t happened at all!”

“Last time we met, you said I was ruining your life!” Tony snapped. “You said you didn’t want to see me again! I only did what you asked of me, I—”

“I was mad at you about Bucky!” Steve yelled at him and clenched his hands into fists, forcing himself to calm down. “I realize now that it wasn’t your fault, but I was allowed to be mad at you. You lied to me. That didn’t change the fact that I loved you.” Taking a deep breath, he forced the words out before he could stop himself. “And it doesn’t change that I love you still.”

“You…” Tony shook his head, staring at him in terrible confusion. “You love me. Still.”

Steve licked his lips and nodded. “Yes,” he said and straightened his back. He was a lot of things, but a coward wasn’t one of ‘em. “I understand that sixteen years is a long time, and I won’t expect anything from you. No one would wait this long for anybody, and I said things I shouldn’t have, last time we saw each other.” He took a deep breath. “I understand all that, but don’t try to tell yourself I would care for a _second_ that you’re not twenty anymore. Don’t try to talk yourself out of it by making excuses for me.”

“Steve,” Tony urged, and he was shaking all over now. “My life… it didn’t go so well. After the dreams stopped, I had a few rough years, okay? Did a lot of stuff I’m not proud of, with a lot of people I didn’t even like. I drank, I…” His eyes flickered to the floor. “I had too many affairs, built weapons that caused more damage than they did good, and… and my body is kind of a mess. I almost died a year ago, and… you wouldn’t… you wouldn’t want someone like me.”

“Would you let me be the judge of that?” Steve asked.

Tony stared at him, his big brown eyes vulnerable. “I just wanna spare us both the disappointment.”

“We dreamt of each other,” Steve said.

“Well… yes.”

“No, you don’t get it: We _dreamt_ of each other, Tony,” Steve repeated, with a bit more force behind it. “We shared dreams while we lived in a whole different timeline. There were five decades between us, don’t you think that counts for something?”

Tony grimaced. “I don’t believe in fate.”

“I’m not talking about fate,” Steve said. “I’m talking about _us_. Because I needed you through all of the mess that was the war. You were the only thing that kept me sane. I think I dreamt of you because I needed you to survive all of that.”

“Me, too…” Tony whispered. “You were the only thing that kept me going, too.”

Steve took a step closer, and then another, as hope flared deep inside him. “Then why are you fighting this so hard? Is it because you found someone else? I don’t care who you slept with, Tony, I couldn’t expect you to be celibate for two decades, I… I just need to know if your heart’s still mine.”

Tony’s face fell, and there was a sob escaping his lips. “It was always yours.”

“And it still is?”

“Yes,” Tony breathed. “ _Yes_.”

“Good,” Steve told him, then stormed forward.

The second their lips touched, the walls around Steve collapsed and he felt. He _felt_. Tony moaned into his mouth and he felt it. His hands slid down over his shoulders and he felt it. Warmth blazed across every inch of his skin.

Steve couldn’t help himself, he laughed with relief. It made kissing a whole lot more difficult, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I forgot how stubborn you can be,” Tony mumbled against his lips, as they wrapped both of their arms around each other.

“You’re the one who tried arguing me out of this,” Steve replied. “I was ready to kiss you when you said ‘hello’.”

Tony laughed, still a little disbelieving. “Guess I was stupid. Stupid and insecure. I just thought I might be too old for you now, or that you were still mad. I was… I was a coward. I wanted to come here so often, I was going mad. When they found you, I was… shell-shocked. I mean, I had always hoped, but… Sixteen years is a long time.” Tony’s eyes searched him. “You… You really want this? I wasn’t kidding, Steve, I’m… kind of a mess. I’m not an easy man to deal with.”

Steve smiled at him. “Hate to break it to you, but you’ve never been easy to deal with.” He leaned in, and kissed Tony gently. “ _I love you_ ,” he said with feeling. “How is that so hard to believe? You kept loving me, for all this time, despite it all…”

“How could I not?” Tony asked. “I’ve been outta my mind when you were gone… thinking about you. Knowing…” He paused again, a long sigh rolling off his shoulders. “Knowing what I said to you. And I’ve missed you so much. I had someone look for you every day, for sixteen years. I flew over the damn Atlantic too many times to count.” He broke away, pressing his brows to Steve’s. “Just hoping I’d have the chance to tell you how much you mean to me.”

Steve’s heart leapt in his chest. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that,” he said. On a second thought, he let himself sink down on the bed, taking Tony with him. They lay down next to each other, face to face.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Steve whispered.

“Really?” Tony asked and the insecurity Steve saw buried in his brown eyes was definitely something new.

“Really,” he confirmed. “You’re not the sort of guy a man can just walk away from.”

Tony hummed, trying not to look pleased and failing. “There’s probably a few things I should explain to you first.” He slowly pulled Steve’s hand up, and placed it over his clothed chest.

There was some kind of vibration underneath. Steve’s fingers carefully moved around a little, and he realized it was a circular form, and it seemed to be embedded in Tony’s chest.

“It goes deep into my body,” Tony explained. “There’s scars, and it’s not pretty. It’s kinda one of the reasons I’m part of the Avengers.”

“It makes you stronger?” Steve asked warily. He hoped Tony wasn’t in constant pain, but his features looked relaxed enough, his breathing not as deep as it could be, but not too shallow either.

“No, but it powers something that does. I’ll… I’ll show you later.”

“And… how? Does it hurt?”

“No,” Tony said with a gentle voice. “No, it doesn’t. I’ll tell you the whole story at some point, but for now, I really wanna touch you some more.” And then, because it was still _Tony_ beneath all those new insecurities, he reached forward, and boldly cupped Steve’s cock through his pants. “Any objections?”

Steve exhaled slowly. “No, not at all. Can we—”

Tony grinned. “Remember what I told you?”

“What do you mean?”

“That we’d do this. In a real bed together. In a real world.”

Steve felt his face heat a little, as he remembered. He nodded.

“Good,” Tony said, pressing himself nearer. “How about—”

The room exploded with several sharp knocks to the closed door, making them both jump and Steve’s eyes shoot wide with alarm.

“Captain Rogers?” Phil Coulson’s voice muffled through the door. “Are you ready? We are debriefing in half an hour.”

Steve stared at Tony in confusion.

“Sweetheart,” Tony urged him softly—so softly he barely heard him. “Answer the man.”

Steve cleared his throat, his mind snapping back to itself. “I’m ready,” he said. “Gonna be down in five.”

When the steps quieted down, Tony released a low breath. “The last time I saw the guy, he threatened to take me down with a taser. Not looking forward to what he’ll have to say if he finds out I’m sullying his childhood hero’s virtue.”

“I’m willingly sullied,” Steve reminded him, and smiled. “And I’ve never been all that virtuous.”

Tony grinned. “Not sure that’ll make a difference, but feel free to tell him that—loudly, so everyone can hear you. I’d love to see the look on his face.” Tony turned around and frowned at the sunlight hitting the foot of the bed. “You better toddle downstairs. I’ll meet you in debriefing?”

“Tony—”

“Don’t worry,” Tony said. “We’ll take that God down.”

“We will?” he murmured, suddenly feeling very small. In a few hours, they would be going into a fight together, and he had no idea what lay ahead of them. He didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to keep Tony here. He wanted to relive this over and over again.

“Of course we will,” Tony replied. Then he was leaning up into Steve’s space, his fingers under his chin as he guided him up to meet his eyes. “I love you.”

Warmth spread through each of Steve’s cells. “You do?”

“Yeah. And I love you too much to let this go.”

There was nothing Steve could do but smile as Tony kissed him. As Tony peppered his face with his lips and whispered his confession into his mouth over and over again.

“I love you. I love you, Steve. I’ve loved you for so long…”

Steve’s arms flung around his neck. He couldn’t let him leave. Not now. Not ever. He’d just found this.

And he wasn’t about to give it up ever again.

 

* * *

 

As it was, the battle against Loki and the Chitauri lasted only a day, and yet it took every bit of strength from Steve. Loki had tasted dirt when the Hulk had smashed him into the ground. The egomaniac hadn’t expected how well the Avengers would work together, and he certainly hadn’t expected Hulk to storm into the penthouse and take him out for good. No, he’d obviously thought he pretty much had all the time in the world. Time to hold speeches, make a flashy entry, but at the end of the day, he’d lost the battle.

Steve glanced to Tony where he sat slumped over his still-filled Shawarma plate. He looked just as exhausted as Steve felt, and Steve could see how far his thoughts had drifted off.

He’d almost lost him today. After he’d just found him. And he could only imagine what he’d gone through.

“You alright?” Steve asked, his voice low, though of course he knew the others could still hear them.

“Yeah,” Tony said with a small smile. “I will be.”

Tony hadn’t mentioned what had transpired when he’d flown through the portal, and Steve wasn’t about to brave the subject just now. When he’d tried on the way over here, Tony’s jaw had clenched and he’d heaved a long sigh, but there was little more.

Something to talk to about later, Steve promised to himself. He wouldn’t let Tony deal with this alone, no matter how much he wanted to hide from him.

Natasha was throwing them glances from where she sat, and when she noticed Steve looking, she cast him a smile and nodded.

Steve felt heat rising to his cheeks a little, but he nodded his head, too.

 

* * *

 

There would be time for reflection in a few days. Right now, Steve just wanted rest.

There was something else; an unspoken fear lurking deep in his mind; one Steve didn’t want to breach but it was similarly something he felt they needed to discuss. And as Tony ushered him across the threshold leading to his penthouse—he felt his nerves dancing.

He wanted Tony in his life. He wanted him at his table, laughing with him, arguing and sparring with him; he wanted everything. He wanted the added bonus of having him in his bed as well as at his side.

Dreams had brought them together, but he wasn’t quite sure yet if Tony wanted this to be a full-time thing.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Tony said, as they walked out of the elevator. The small amount of light didn’t stretch far into the large room, but then Steve wasn’t interested in taking the tour. Not today. Steve just wanted to sleep, and he wanted it in Tony’s arms. “Never expected I’d be bringing you here. The tower’s relatively new; I can count on one hand how often I’ve slept here.”

Steve’s heart started pounding. There was a strain in Tony’s voice he’d never heard before, and for half of a second, Steve thought he might be as nervous as he was.

“Steve?” Tony was suddenly right in front of him, his brown eyes searching him. “You with me?”

“What happens now?” he asked, resting a hand over Tony’s chest where the arc reactor hummed steadily. He’d seen it going dark today, and even before he’d known what it meant, he’d known that losing the light meant losing Tony.

It was something he’d protect now. Every second, every day of his life.

“Well…” Tony raised his head and brushed his lips against Steve’s. “I think we could start by having a shower and wash the fight off.”

“Do…” Steve licked his lips and sighed. It wasn’t what he’d meant to ask. “Do you think… it’ll be different now?”

“Different?” Tony tilted his head questioningly.

“You… me… no dreams.”

Tony considered him for a long, quiet second before realization seeped inward. Then almost as inexplicably, a pang of humor clashed with adoration in the recesses of his eyes. “It’ll be better,” he promised softly. “I’m not at my best right now, but I swear to you, we’ll be so good together.”

Steve felt his heart swell with warmth. And if nothing else, he resolved to never underestimate Tony’s love for him again. “So, this is it… you, me…?”

“Of course,” Tony said. “Unless you have any objections to that?”

“No, not at all,” Steve replied. He hugged Tony tight, kissing his neck with reverence. A stifled breath left his lips, and he felt his eyes closing against his will.

“Was that a yawn?” Tony asked on an amused chuckle.

“No.”

“Liar…” Tony dipped his head. “Come on, shower, then you need your beauty rest. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

Steve pouted but he didn’t have the strength to argue with him. Instead, he released another yawn and followed Tony across the corridor. They stepped into what Steve supposed was Tony’s bedroom, and… everything stopped.

“Tony…” Steve breathed with wide eyes.

“What is it?”

Everything was exactly the same: The huge bed, the window front, and the silken sheets. The rug, the night stands, the bed lamps, _everything_. Down to the last detail.

The only thing missing was the abstract painting on the wall and the wooden easel in the corner. Otherwise, it was one hundred percent their room. The motel room in which they’d met in their dreams. Only it had never been a motel room. It had been Tony’s bedroom, all along.

“Did you do this?” Steve asked.

“Did I what?”

Steve raised a brow at him. Did he truly not see it? “This is our room.”

Tony looked at him in confusion, at the room, then he seemed to understand. He shook his head, and looked around. “No it’s not, it’s…” His eyes swept over the walls, the windows, and the bed. “Oh fuck, it is.”

“Did you do it? Replicate it…?”

“No,” Tony said vehemently. “Do you really think I’d torment myself like this? The interior designs have been approved over a year ago. I never knew if I’d find you, and… Pepper—my…” He faltered briefly, frowning. “She’s my ex-personal assistant, my boss, and also kinda my ex-girlfriend, you’ll love her, and she… she had the room designed. I never had anything to do with it. I just told her she should do whatever she wanted and… fuck, I never even realized.”

“She designed the room for the two of you?” Steve asked, and he didn’t really know why it would bother him, but he couldn’t shake the thought off that it was _their_ room, and no one else’s.

“No, we broke up before we got to that point,” Tony explained calmly, as if reading his thoughts perfectly. “She didn’t design it herself, we hired someone for that and just… _wow_ ,” he looked around, staring at the bed. “I didn’t realize,” Tony said. “How could I not see that?”

“Sixteen years is a long time,” Steve said, unbothered by it. “So the room was, what, a glimpse at our future?”

“I have no idea,” Tony said on a wistful smile. “Does it matter?”

“No, it doesn’t.” He reached for Tony’s hand and squeezed it. Another puzzle piece fell into place. Tony might not believe in fate, but it was harder to dismiss it by the second.

Steve had always been convinced that he was the only one paving the way before him. No one else would do it for him, but this thing with Tony… it did feel a lot like destiny.

Maybe it was a destiny they’d both formed, at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was having Tony near now, his fingers entwined with Steve’s, and the little dream they’d dreamed had finally become reality.

 

* * *

 

_A few days later_

 

Steve groaned when Tony’s teeth scratched his lips and his tongue licked against him with fervor that had every cell in Steve’s body wracked with tension. He barely had time to kiss him back before Tony deprived him of his mouth again. “If Fury’d said one more goddamn word, I would’ve killed him,” he growled, nipping at Steve’s throat as he made his way down his body without ceremony.

Steve tried to answer; he really did. What came out, though, sounded suspiciously like, “ _Guh_.”

Tony licked into his belly button with a fevered moan, sliding a hand between them to free Steve’s cock from his pants. He grinned up at him, and the mischief his eyes only made the ache between Steve’s legs more pronounced. “Glad you agree.”

“He’s… he’s just trying to wrap up the… _ugh_ … the mission.”

The last days had been a whirlwind of many things. Most of the time, they’d been busy helping with the cleanup all over the city, and the few hours they hadn’t been busy carrying rubble around, they’d sat in SHIELD’s New York headquarter, discussing the attack and preparing for the day when Thor would bring Loki back to Asgard.

“Yeah, well,” Tony drawled. “I’m trying to wrap _you_ up, so…”

That had a chuckle burst through Steve’s lips. “What does that even mean?”

Instead of answering, Tony bent down, and had the audacity to wiggle his brows at Steve before he sucked him down to the hilt.

“Oh…” Steve exhaled and groaned loudly, when Tony swirled his tongue around his head. “ _Tha-at_.”

“What was that? I didn’t catch it,” Tony drawled and the playfulness in his tone had the weight on Steve’s heart lightening by the second.

“Jerk,” he retorted, his voice boisterous as his hand reached for Tony’s pants. “Come up here, I wanna touch you.” With that, he quickly hauled Tony up with two fingers in his belt. He opened it quickly, shoving both Tony’s pants and his boxers down over his ass. His fingertips gently caressed his hard length as the rest of him fought to get both of their jeans down.

Tony’s mouth had fallen open, shallow breaths on his lips as Steve stroked him firmly.

“I love making you incoherent,” Steve said, flashing Tony a quick grin. “You’re always so good with your words, and I’ve… missed this. The way your eyes get all wide. The little sounds you make.” He released him completely without warning, his hands finding Tony’s wrists as he turned them around and pressed Tony on the bed so he could look at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he told him, following the eager bob of Tony’s erect cock as he settled down.

“I’m old,” Tony replied, but the sorrow was gone from his voice. There was still a note of uncertainty, but Steve was determined to make him forget about their age difference as soon as possible. It didn’t matter to him, not in the slightest, and he’d do everything in his power to make Tony understand.

“You’re not,” he said, as he reached for the hem of Tony’s shirt. He’d seen the arc reactor up close already, when he and Tony had slipped into bed a few days ago. Nothing had happened—they were both too tired right after the fight, and the destruction and violence of the battle too close—but Tony had told him about the last sixteen years. Not in great detail, but he had told him about Afghanistan, and Obadiah, and the Palladium. It had Steve want to wrap him into his arms protectively, but it also brought forth a fierce rush of pride that Tony had made it through all that—all by himself.

“You’re the single most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve said, willing Tony to believe him.

“Charmer,” Tony said, and raised his arms a little so Steve could pull off Tony’s shirt. He did the same with his own, and then it was just them, and nothing in between.

Yeah, Steve thought with a low breath, he’d really missed looking at Tony. He’d missed everything. He’d missed the way he always trembled when he moaned. He’d missed the arrogant glow of his eyes and the matching words that rolled off his oh-so-talented lips. Most of all, he’d missed the way he could make all of the above vanish in a blink just by wrapping his hand around Tony’s erection.

“Oh fuck,” Tony gasped, tossing his head back and thrusting his hips forward. “Please…”

“If I’d only known how easy it would be to tame you,” Steve said amusedly.

“Tame?” Tony asked, his hips jerking forward to meet Steve’s fingers.

“Yeah.”

Tony smiled. “Nah, not tamed. But I guess I’m lucky you love me either way, huh?”

“True. So how are we doing this?”

Tony held his gaze a moment longer, before he leaned sideways. “Hold that thought,” Tony said. Steve let himself fall on his back as he looked after him. He rummaged through something in his drawer, and then held up a small bottle and a little plastic package.

“Condom and lube will be your best friends if you wanna have sex in this century,” Tony said. “Sorry, that’s not exactly good pillow talk, but did anyone update you on STDs?”

Steve thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, SHIELD was pretty thorough, but I can’t catch any diseases anyway.”

“Oh,” Tony exhaled with a brief widening of his eyes. “I… I’d say you should probably let someone from SHIELD check that before you get too funky, but—”

“Tony,” Steve interrupted softly. “You understand that you’re the only one I’m planning to have sex with?”

“Right,” Tony said, swallowing. “I get a check-up regularly, and I’m clean, so… I wouldn’t mind… going bare. But I don’t mind the condom either.”

“I want to feel you,” Steve said, smiling as he took the condom from Tony, and put it on the bed. “Now would probably be a good time to tell you that Natasha gave me one of those tablets right? My research was pretty all-encompassing.”

“Oh, was it?” Tony said on one of those lewd grins Steve had really come to miss. He ground down against Steve, reminding him once again of how hard he still was. “Well, Mr. 21st-Century-Know-It-All, then I’d suggest you take the lube and get to work.”

That had Steve’s eyes widen in a fleeting moment of panic.

Tony chuckled, raising Steve’s left hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. “Let’s do it together, alright? If you don’t like something, we can stop at any time.”

Steve nodded, and let Tony pull him in.

The next minutes were a series of chuckles, moans, hisses and bite marks. Before Steve knew what was happening, Tony sat on his thighs, their chests pressed against each other’s. Tony had gently directed Steve’s hand behind himself, and was now simultaneously dipping both of their forefingers into himself. Their hands were entwined, and all Steve could do, as he stretched Tony open, was to stare at him in utter awe.

“I’m… I’m good,” Tony murmured soon after.

“Are you sure?” Steve certainly didn’t know much about this, but it didn’t feel like Tony was loose enough to fit him.

“I like to feel it,” Tony explained with soft eyes. “Can you do that for me?”

“I can try,” Steve replied on a low moan as Tony pulled both of their fingers out. Then he spread some more lube over Steve’s cock.

Tony smiled at him. “Trust me, okay?” He leaned in, bathing kisses down Steve’s throat, one hand caressing Steve’s back soothingly as the other brought him into position. “We’ll go as slow as you need.”

Most of his adult life, Steve hadn’t known what to expect from his first time. The idea of a romantic, physical love had remained something he craved but never thought to touch. Now with the head of his cock slipping inside Tony’s heat as he panted hard against his chest, every previous notion, every careless thought he’d ever assigned to lovemaking was washed away.

“Oh my God,” Steve gasped, his fingers digging into Tony’s forearms.

“Just a little more,” Tony replied, his voice strained, the hand at his back urging Steve’s middle to meet him. It was only then that Steve noticed how stiff his legs were, how tension had locked every muscle in his body. Steve was determined not to let his fears rule him. With a trembling breath, he forced his muscles to go to work, drew in a sharp breath, and raised his hips.

Tony’s smooth skin was cradled snugly around him, as Tony arched his back. Suddenly, the memory of Tony rolling his hips over Steve in fluid motions returned to his mind. The image alone brought a groan to his lips. Tony was no less beautiful right now, only that his face was twisted into a grimace.

“Should I—should I pull out?” Steve asked. Tony felt really tight around, and he had no idea if this hurt or not.

Tony blinked, releasing a trembling chuckle. “God, no…”

“You’re tight,” Steve told him.

“I told you I like the stretch. You’re perfect, stop worrying,” Tony echoed. His chest heaved with pants and he forced his eyes open, taking Steve in with his heated gaze. “Are _you_ alright?”

Steve nodded his head, his chest crushed with the weight of his gasps. “Yeah.” He bit his lower lip hard and wiggled his hips, determined to create friction, needing to feel all of Tony around him. “You feel amazing. I never thought it’d be like this.”

“Like what?”

Steve smiled. “So… effortless.”

The word sounded ridiculously cheesy to his ears, but it didn’t make it any less true. He’d thought, on some level, their few shared nights would have prepared him for this, but he was wrong. So incredibly wrong. And now that he was inside Tony, Steve felt at last that he did own him—at least a small part.

There was no way any other person would ever get what he had now.

Tony’s hand remained poised above Steve’s lower back, massaging him softly. “Move with me…” He cast him a reassuring smile as he lifted off of Steve’s cock, held for a hesitant second, and then sank back down again.

This was another thing he’d never envisioned for his first time. Them sitting like this, looking at each other in broad light. But here he was, grinding himself into Tony as he struggled to find a rhythm that seemed natural. His jerky breaths betrayed his nervousness, but when he faltered, Tony didn’t frown or roll his eyes or bring any of his worst fears to life. The look on his face remained reverent, his eyes never leaving Steve’s.

“That’s it,” Tony whispered again when they started moving together. The wet suctioning sound that filled the air between them should have made his nose wrinkle in distaste, but it only made the heat in his skin burn hotter. “Go as slow as you need.”

But Steve didn’t _want_ slow. The need in his body was too intense. And from the edge in his voice, he could tell slow wasn’t exactly something Tony wanted, either. “Hold onto me,” he told Tony, and got a surprised look for it.

He moaned when Steve put a hand on his ass, and one on his shoulders, and pushed him on his back, with Steve lying on top of him. Once they were settled, his eyes softened and he brushed his lips against Steve’s. “Okay, now move with me,” he whispered, and started to roll his lips up and against Steve.

Steve nodded harshly, his racing mind determined to keep up with every sensation. He was nervous and split apart with pleasure, focused on the wet slide of his erection inside Tony and, at the same time, the look on his face.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Tony moaned, wrapping his legs around Steve’s hips. The wet smack of their bodies rocking together echoed in Steve’s ears and served only to fuel the growing fire in his belly.

“You feel so good,” Steve said. Tony nibbled a kiss off his lips, coaxing him to lean down until they were pressed against each other fully. There was no way Tony wasn’t splitting himself in half like this, with his ankles almost crossed over Steve’s shoulder blades, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to stop.

He’d said he wanted it like this, with him stretched and held, and Steve would give him everything he needed.

“Waited so long for you,” Tony breathed. “So long.”

“’m here now,” Steve said. He wound his arms beneath Tony’s armpits, holding him close. His body was getting closer to an explosion unlike anything he’d ever felt, and he could barely keep up with Tony. The way he moved beneath him, rolling and sliding just right. He felt the eager jerks of Tony’s cock against his abdomen every time he arched into him, heard the little squeaking of the mattress beneath their thrusting bodies and shivered at the colorful words he wasn’t even certain Tony was fully aware he released into the hot air between them.

Steve clenched his teeth and thrust harder. The deeper he burrowed himself, the more he wanted to stay there. Tony had started clenching his muscles and at the first contraction, Steve’s eyes went wide with shock.

“Tell me,” Tony pleaded suddenly, and Steve could feel his movements becoming jerky. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” Steve said without hesitation, his arms clenching as tremors seized his body, ecstasy ripping through his every fiber. Tony’s muscles clamped down around him and Steve gave back as good as he got. His teeth were nipping at Tony’s throat, the moans rumbling through his body, melting into helpless whimpers as Tony suddenly trembled hard and spilled himself between both of their chests.

Steve groaned, his hips still thrusting into Tony, desperate for as much of Tony as he could give. It didn’t take long, though, before his own orgasm took hold of him, and he had to remind himself very sternly not to crush Tony as he held on for dear life.

Minutes later, as they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, Steve thought back on everything that had happened, this wondrous turn his life had taken, and closed his eyes.

Tony inhaled softly, his cheek resting against Steve’s shoulder. He considered him for a long, silent beat, then tentatively raised his hand to Steve’s cheek.

“I never found out what it was,” he said, his voice soft. “The dreams. The reason we were… together. I did a lot of research, spoke with people I would’ve never spoken with otherwise, and… I still don’t understand it.”

“Does it matter?” Steve asked.

Tony thought on that for a moment. “No, I guess not.”

Steve was staring down at him, his fingers curled around Tony’s middle. “You know, the first night we met, I’d just gotten the serum and… Erskine had died in my arms. And I lay down on my bed, and I kept thinking that I didn’t want to be alone, and that there had to be some meaning to all of this. So I made a wish…”

“Steve…” Tony began, his eyes boring into him.

“And then there was you, and _you_ were completely unlike anything I’d ever seen or touched. And… well, you were a bit of a jerk.”

Tony snorted. “Guilty as charged.”

“I think that’s why I didn’t realize it at first,” Steve went on. “Looking at a fella got you into trouble real fast, and I was supposed to find a girl and marry her, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t know what I wanted until I knew you.” He leaned back a little so he could put his hand on top of the arc reactor; his fingers brushing lightly over its surface. It threw a soft blue light against Steve’s skin and suddenly, that last missing puzzle piece fell into place as well.

The painting in their bedroom was missing because it had yet to be painted. The blue circle that had always seemed so abstract, so other-worldly was now something cherished and familiar. And Steve could already see himself standing at that wooden easel and put those colours together.

Steve smiled, but didn’t say anything. Tony would find out soon enough.

“I wished for it, too,” Tony confided with a trembling voice. “When Jarvis died, I wished for something so I wouldn’t be alone, too. And I was so afraid of what would happen if I told you about your future… That I might lose you even before you flew that plane into the ocean.” He broke off, the words taking on a life of their own. “When you were gone, it ruined me.”

Steve bit his lip. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, Steve, I don’t care.” He shook his head and smiled gently. “It ruined me and I don’t care. Our dreams saved me. _You_ saved me. I don’t regret a single night.”

Steve’s breathing hitched and his body warmed with elation.

Tony leaned up and gently brushed his lips across Steve’s. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Steve replied without hesitation. They lay in each other’s arms, skin against skin, and heartbeat against heartbeat, and it wasn’t long until Steve felt himself drifting off.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmured sleepily.

Tony brushed his nose along Steve’s cheek and released a soft breath. “Already living my dream.”

Steve chuckled. “Our dream, you mean.”

He could feel Tony’s mouth curling into a smile. “Yes… _our_ dream.”

  


[ ](http://kaitovsheiji.tumblr.com/post/154288060443/good-day-planet-earth-this-piece-here-is-my)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it :)


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